Darkest Before Dawn
by SummerMistedDragon
Summary: He never should have ignored the signs, never just brushed this off like it was just another irritating moment that would go away with time. Because, like they say...rain drops may gather, but it only takes one to break the dam. Guess that's why they called him the "Flood"...R&R Please?
1. Get Out Your Guns

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...besides my half OC/half canon characters...who my usual readers are familiar with now, and if you are new, then you will find them pretty quick...**

 **Summary: Christmas present to my readers! Ish...aka I had some miraculous free time and this plot idea wouldn't leave me alone so I decided to write a holiday-ish fic that I hope to have done by the end of the twelve nights of Christmas...January 6th...but it might evolve into more than that so we'll see...but Vega needed a holiday fic. Ok so true summary...let's just say it's going to be crazy...**

 **Author's Note: I have not forgotten or abandoned my other two fics, just taking a bit of a mental break so I can jump into them raring to go. Enjoy this one, it's probably (hopefully) going to be shorter than the others but still as action packed.**

 **Chapter Titles are from _The Cab_ song _Angel with a Shotgun_ , fic title is from _Florence and the Machine_ song _Shake it Off_. Both perfect songs for this.**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 **Get Out Your Guns**

Xxx

 _December 21st, 2039_

Xxx

He never should have ignored the signs, never just brushed this off like it was just another irritating moment that would go away with time. Because, like they say...rain drops may gather, but it only takes one to break the dam. Guess that's why they called him the "Flood".

Xxx

Ok...so cookies and treats were cooling on the counters and kitchen table, with a couple of the girls guarding the entryways to ensure the guys remained out of the kitchen. Instead the men were busy either filling the wood bins so no one had to chop wood anytime soon, or mock sparring to waste away some of the pent up energy from being off duty.

Or as off duty as they could be eight hours outside of Vega's walls.

"So _now_ what are you making? Thought you finished everyone's things weeks ago."

"I did, this is for someone else."

"No one else is going to be here though…"

"Just got a hunch on this…"

The fact of the matter was, out of the sixteen of them crowding into the rather decent sized house, technically only four of them were on leave from active duty, the rest were still listed as 'on guard', but as they say: "When the cat's away the mice will play."

Xxx

 _Two Weeks Ago_

 _December 7th, 2039_

Xxx

It only took Michael about ten seconds after he landed on the roof of the Monte Carlo for the senate meeting to realize something was wrong. Not wrong as in Vega was under or soon to be under attack, nor wrong as in the senate was arguing again.

More like wrong as in something was wrong with _him_.

Eleven seconds after he landed, his leg started to stiffen up as he moved, and that was the answer.

Michael growled under his breath, ignoring the faint twinges of pain starting to resonate deep in his left thigh where if he had been human, there would probably be extensive scar tissue from an old injury he'd sustained about a century and a half ago. Right now, the residual effects were apparently trying to make themselves known, but the archangel ignored it still. Not a single hitch in his long stride as he left the roof and headed down two floors to the senate chamber where the rest of Vega's leaders were gathering.

Senator Romero passed him the agenda the second he was inside the door, nodding slightly in greeting as Michael took his seat. It did take a bit of effort to hide the grimace trying to stretch across his face as his leg throbbed at the sudden lack of movement, a gnawing stiffness beginning to take over his joints.

What in the blue blazes was causing this?

Michael shoved the thoughts aside, subtly shifting in his seat to try and achieve a position in his chair that would not allow him to be in pain.

No such luck, as ten minutes after the meeting had been started and business was well under way, a particularly vicious throb sent a stab of pain along Michael's entire leg, straight from his hip all the way down to his calf as the muscles spasmed.

That took a lot of effort to hide, instead one of his hands snapped to his thigh, gripping his leg in an attempt to alleviate the sudden pain.

Captain Finch, Vega's leading Army Commander under Riesen, cleared his throat softly, glancing to the archangel in confusion. His look was met with a slight shake of the head, Michael gritting his teeth without showing any outward signs other than the hand subtly rubbing his leg.

Senator Levi droned on about some proposal, or an amendment to some law...Michael wasn't entirely sure at this point as his vision decided now was apparently a fabulous time to start fuzzing out in time with the wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm his senses.

Michael swallowed thickly, having to clench his jaw when the nausea seemed to fade before reappearing almost instantaneously as a headache.

The slam of the gavel as Riesen ended that item of business was in perfect time for the strange sensations threatening the archangel's body to just...vanish...leaving Michael honestly confused and bit mad about it all.

That was...until he tried to take a deep breath to settle his internal thoughts and found his chest unresponsive beyond meager inhalations.

Finding yourself unable to breathe properly was bad enough, but after starting to already not feel well, and coupled with slight dizziness, Michael was starting to feel a bit anxious, and that unnerved him more than the symptoms themselves...he didn't get anxious... _ever_ …

But it was his skin breaking out in a cold sweat as his chest began to ache that really made Michael begin to think something was seriously wrong. This time, it was Michael's stare that made Captain Finch turn to see him, the army officer's brow furrowing at the faint panic on the archangel's face.

Captain Finch mouthed a quick 'are you ok?', eyes widening in concern when Michael abruptly shook his head. The human jerked his head towards the door, shifting the papers in his lap to the side table next to his chair in the senate chamber before he made to stand up. Michael tried to copy him, instead his leg was too stiff and to move and he jerked upright with a soft complaint passing from his lips before he could stop it.

"Captain where are you going?"

"Archangel?"

Michael couldn't turn to face Senator Julien's question, nor Whele questioning the captain, all he could do was grip the arm of his chair tightly in a bare hope that he'd remain on his feet and not fall over.

"Michael what's going on?"

Finch sounded a touch hesitant when he spoke, not that Michael could really even look up from the floor to see him, "General, we are needed-"

By this point, the inability to breathe was only making the lightheadedness even worse, and Michael was seriously starting to panic, internally since he wasn't entirely sure if he could even open his mouth without throwing up let alone speak, he lost the ability to hear anything else around him as his left arm that had been braced against his thigh went numb and slid from his leg.

"Michael!"

Ok, that he heard, only because it was the last thing Michael coherently understood before he crashed to the floor…

Xxx

 _October 3rd, 2039_

Xxx

Sgt. First Class Alexander Lannon, Archangel Corps Soldier for the last seven years, was hard pressed to keep from growling or sighing or rolling his eyes...or showing irritation in any other form, as Captain Rodriguez handed him a packet of papers detailing his new rotation schedule. Today was rotation day, close to sixty-five percent of the Archangel Corps and almost eighty-five percent of the army got rotated through duty slots every eighteen months. Meaning Alex got moved from being a guard in House Whele to a completely different location and under a new supervisor.

He was _not_ happy...it was just under two weeks after the whole Senator Frost thing, and besides still reeling from Bixby's death, Alex was just now getting the hang of the intense schedule Michael had come up with so the soldier could properly complete his duties and have extra training time with the archangel alongside meditation sessions every other night. Needless to say throwing another wrench into the chaos was not going to be easy.

At least Captain Rodriguez gave Alex permission to leave the barracks, even if he was still on probation for "sneaking out the other night" aka meeting with the Michael that the archangel wouldn't take the time to admit to the captains.

The Stratosphere was quiet as usual as Lannon trekked up the last couple flights of stairs, having sent the elevator a few floors short of the top so he'd have a little more time to think things through. His new rotation may or may not require him to have wildly different hours than Michael was usually available, if he was even within easy distance of the archangel in the first place. Basically Alex was going to talk to his mentor about how the hell they were going to manage this and the soldier's 'destiny' as the chosen one.

Michael didn't respond to Alex's knock, but the door did open when he punched in his access code, being one of only ten or so people who actually had said code made the soldier feel a little better about entering unannounced. At least the archangel was present when he did so, just either oblivious or ignoring the door entirely as Alex entered.

No matter how many times Alex saw it, he'd still say watching Michael perform a sword dance was one of the coolest things ever, such grace and discipline and skill all wrapped into actions that were just milliseconds short of being a blur of motion.

With a final spin of his blades, the hilts seeming to twist around his hands before resting back in his palms perfectly, Michael either completed what he was doing or came to a stopping point to address Alex.

At this point Alex was too frustrated and tired to explain himself, passing Michael the packet of papers and stalking to the tablet the archangel kept drinks and 'snack food' on, not that there was ever anyone up here long enough or frequently enough (besides Alex at this point) to ever indulge in the nonperishable goods. The sounds of pages turning overpowered Alex dropping a couple ice cubes from the small container into a tumbler, making to pour himself a hefty glass of...rum apparently...there wasn't any other kind of liquor on the table.

Michael's hand gently stopped him from pouring the liquid, taking the bottle and doing it himself and only giving Alex half a glass. The soldier didn't question it, just turned to lean against the table next to Michael and down half the drink, crunching on an ice cube while the archangel read through the orders.

"I start tomorrow."

"I can see that." Michael's dry tone showed absolutely no emotion, but it also relayed he wasn't irritated or even surprised by this, meaning either he already knew about it...or wasn't showing his thoughts on the matter.

"Fine time for me to get moved to the Agri-Towers, I haven't worked there since my first year after being inducted."

The archangel shrugged idly, "Rotations are assigned randomly, other than personal requests or changes, there is no selection process to the dictating of duties."

"And you know this how?"

Michael's stare would normally have made anyone back off and quickly apologize, followed by possibly running. Alex just stared back, not caring at all that he was stepping out of line.

"I know you are aware Sgt. Hanson is one of the Corps' top programmers, she designed and implemented a system to randomize rotation assignments two years ago."

Alex snorted, "And you've seen this program?"

"Yes."

That made Alex truly laugh, swallowing the last of the drink and crunching on the ice as he set the glass down, "Michael, there is no possible way for her to have done that, what you saw was the mock-up that randomizes the first fifty or so names in the system, Carla's the best programmer because she can work the files fast enough to keep up with the rotation schedules. That randomizer is faulty for the entire system because-hey guess what-we keep _dying_...the mortality rate is too high for it to be accurate, the program can't be updated each time someone dies otherwise it tries to redo the current rotation again. Plus, you and the captains induct new guys every six months and the rotations are every eighteen. Too many new names and files to add to a system that's temperamental at best."

Now Alex had Michael's attention, the archangel's arms crossing over his chest as he waited for the soldier to go on.

"You know Carla's the best programmer, and one of the nursing students running the barracks infirmary right? While some of us may end up dead a lot of the time, we're not stupid enough to get hurt on purpose, Carla probably spent the last month during her infirmary shifts redoing the rotation assignments, she'd come up with three options and send them to the captains to review and sign off on one."

"You say probably like you know this for a fact."

Alex cringed, and Michael exhaled a tad louder than normal, just shy of growling in irritation, "I may or may not have bribed her last time to keep me out of House Thorn and House Blake...that and since you insist on clotheslining me with your wings every other day, she's agreed to keep her mouth shut about my tattoos considering she's had to wrap my ribs twice now. I just owe her a couple substitution shifts later, but she won't put the tattoos down on my record or tell the captains."

To that Michael nodded, stepping away finally as he glanced back over the papers. Alex breathed a sigh of relief, Michael had given him strict orders to not tell _anyone_ about the tattoos, or to even talk to those who already knew about them. Mainly because other than the archangel himself, and the deceased Bixby, the rest were V-6s. Though Alex suspected Michael was well aware Alex hadn't completely kept to that promise, considering besides Carla by default, Ethan and Noma were privy to the tattoos, not that Ethan had really figured it out what they meant…

"It says you are optional for outer excursion duty."

"Yeah, something about rotating with those already stationed at the other locations. Rodriguez was being really vague about the details, but I'd be moving in with the Agri-Tower detail, the barracks are too far away to be of easy access."

"Your training will have to be independent from your peers."

Alex's brow furrowed, "You mean sparring?"

"That and your other training."

"Meditating then...what, no more late night meetings? Guess I'm not sneaking out anymore."

Michael nodded again, "Not only that but it would be illogical considering outer guards do not work expressly in the towers."

"Seriously?"

With a final nod, Michael handed Alex the papers, gesturing to a section of the information typed out neatly.

"You will not be able to continue training with me as easily for some time, you must attempt to do on your own but do not be rash about it."

"And why am I doing this on my own? Michael I can barely keep quiet let alone still during meditating, how in the hell am I going to do it by myself?"

"You will learn."

"But why?"

The archangel sighed softly, "Because Alex, since you apparently cannot read the information in front of you…"

Alex glanced down at the papers as his mentor went on, sounding eerily calm considering what he said next.

"This rotation is one of the most dangerous in the Archangel Corps and in Vega, besides working within the Agri-towers you will be stationed at the other agriculture locations." Michael explained, eyes narrowed a tad in barely hidden annoyance.

"Oh shit…"

Michael snorted, "Exactly, you will be stationed outside of Vega's walls."

* * *

 **Well...whatcha think? I doubt I can get my story line to line up with the dates and have this Christmas line up with life but hey...it will be up New Year's.  
**

 **Review please?**


	2. Battles Begun

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...besides my half OC/half canon characters...who my usual readers are familiar with now, and if you are new, then you will find them pretty quick...**

 **Summary: Christmas present to my readers! Ish...aka I had some miraculous free time and this plot idea wouldn't leave me alone so I decided to write a holiday-ish fic that I hope to have done by the end of the twelve nights of Christmas...January 6th...but it might evolve into more than that so we'll see...but Vega needed a holiday fic. Ok so true summary...let's just say it's going to be crazy...**

 **Author's Note: I have not forgotten or abandoned my other two fics, just taking a bit of a mental break so I can jump into them raring to go. Enjoy this one, it's probably (hopefully) going to be shorter than the others but still as action packed.**

 **Chapter Titles are from _The Cab_ song _Angel with a Shotgun_ , fic title is from _Florence and the Machine_ song _Shake it Off_. Both perfect songs for this.**

 **To Red Dragon 1818: thank you for the fave!**

 **To GuestM: Terrible? Had me worried for a second, yes it is addicting, and this story will be heavy on the Michael!whump, this story gets a bit of priority right now for it's basic idea, let's see if I can do it...Thank you so much!**

* * *

 **Chapter Two  
**

 **Battles Begun  
**

Xxx

 _December 7th, 2039_

Xxx

"Michael…"

... _Saint Michael_ …

"Michael…"

... _Michael_ …

"Archangel…"

... _Archangel...Archangel Michael_ …

"Michael! Can you hear me?"

He somehow managed a moan in response, having absolutely no energy to get out more than that as a hand lightly shook his shoulder. The grip loosened just a second as if in relief, then returned a bit firmer this time, keeping him grounded on the present.

"That didn't count as an answer, Michael can you hear me?"

This time he nodded, then tensed up at the sudden pain that simple action caused, keening in the back of his throat when he realized his entire body just _ached_ …

"Easy now...please Archangel, you need to relax, medics are on their way."

Senator Romero's face slowly came into view as his eyes finally figured out that-yes, he did want them to actually open and function correctly. The concern etched onto her features caught him by surprise, until he realized he was lying on the floor of the senate chamber, someone's suit coat draped over his bare chest that stung like mad.

Oh this was not good…

His body was numb...and in a lot of pain, a deep seating ache that stole what little strength he had left, never mind keeping him warm enough. All Michael could really do was force himself to keep breathing, everything else was just not an option. Senator Romero was busy keeping him comfortable, trying to rub some life back into his arms without getting in Senator Julien's way as the medical specialist examined Michael the best she could.

"Michael...are you listening?"

Nodding this time didn't hurt quite so bad, but it was still painful, and he cringed breathlessly for several minutes until he was somehow able to calm down enough to look at her.

"It looked like you hit your head rather hard when you went down, do I have your permission for the medics to act accordingly?"

That fact that he couldn't think things through enough to really respond probably meant he should respond yes, which he did with a sharp nod that made it extremely difficult to function other than breathing and being in excruciating pain for a long time.

Senator Romero was talking to someone else now, a medic apparently since Michael's head was gently lifted with extreme care before a neck brace was buckled into place around his throat. The soft foam on the stiff plastic eased a bit of the ache, not nearly enough but it was better than nothing. Being tipped just a little for the back board almost made him throw up from the white hot pain searing through his veins, yet the instant he was flat again and being buckled on properly the pain eased enough he wasn't gasping for air.

Whatever in the bloody hell happened, he was completely lost to it, all Michael knew was the short transfer from the floor to the gurney inches away felt like he was being dropped down from Heaven...without wings this time. At least the thick blanket draped over his trembling body was warm, soothing some of the aches as his mind slipped into a haze, no longer registering anything around him. Not like he'd been paying much attention anyway, even with both Senator Julien and Romero talking to the medics, Michael was still oblivious to how he ended up like this…

The ceiling of the ambulance was illuminated by a rather obnoxious light, the glow hurting his eyes more than he was willing to admit, someone thankfully laid a cloth over his eyes when they noticed how badly he was squinting, that or his vision had blacked out again. Michael guessed the former when his vision returned for a brief flash of time as a flashlight shined harshly into his retinas, disappearing just as fast as it came.

By the time he realized they had been examining his pupil reaction reflex, Michael's mind was just shot, fading into a murky haze that kept his lungs breathing at a rather shallow and weak rate, but nothing else, only hyper aware of the gnawing pain stealing his...everything...

Someone apparently gave him the ok to shut down entirely, fading into forgiving black that took the pain away and finally gave him peace…

Xxx

 _December 9th, 2039_

Xxx

"...but the best I can recommend is medication to control the pain first and foremost, and something to ease the stress on the muscles to allow the tissue to recover. Until the final test results come back I am at a bit of a loss."

"Other than the obvious episode itself were there any other signs of this?"

"No. That's the thing, there was nothing at all, no valve issues, no blood clots, no constricted arteries, no damaged veins...nothing indicating the archangel was about to or just had a heart attack."

"This doesn't make any sense."

"Of course not, all I can say is the archangel's heart just stopped beating entirely, no rhyme or reason but until he wakes up, in my medical opinion I-"

Michael groaned softly, unable to bite back the noise at this point as his chest throbbed with a dull ache, it only took him two seconds after that noise to be aware of his immediate surroundings. It was pretty safe to bet besides the fact he was in the hospital, judging by the lack of other noises, he was in a private room. And stuck to multiple monitors if the half conversation he heard was any indicator. Half covered by blankets and laying on a hospital bed that was propped up part way, it was rather clear this was serious.

Someone's hand gently clasped his forearm, their thumb rubbing lightly without bumping into the IV port inserted into his arm.

"Already sleepy head, I know you're awake so don't even think about dozing off on me again."

The amount of effort it took to open his eyes was worth it, mostly, his brow furrowed at first when the woman's face came into view, late twenties with dark brown eyes and hair that showed gentle concern and plenty of compassion...a combination he hadn't seen in a long time. Once her white coat came into view over her blouse, plus the stethoscope around her neck, Michael put the pieces together and realized not only was she his current attending physician, but she was also the same one who had treated him for the almost fatal stab wound a couple months ago.

"Surprised to see me?"

"Not who I was expecting." Michael croaked out, cheeks twitching at the tugging of the tape holding the nasal cannula in place, as irritating as it was, the constant stream of oxygen was sadly a much needed help.

Dr. Jeannette Marci snorted, crossing her arms over her chest in amusement, "Now that is not something I've ever heard before, and I've heard some weird things come out people's mouths, including an old guy calling me an angel."

Michael managed to twitch the edges of his lips up a bit, eyes closing in fatigue already. Marci shook his arm again, waiting until he looked at her directly to speak.

"Don't fall asleep just yet ok? I know you're pretty out of it, a heart attack takes quite a lot out of a body, but I need you conscious for a bit more."

With that the archangel nodded weakly, letting Dr. Marci perform a short exam without fighting her, even if some of the things were rather awkward…

As soon as she was done and had stepped back a little, Michael let out a soft moan, too exhausted to keep his eyes fully open anymore. Until she slid her hand into his, squeezing lightly.

"Can you feel my hand?"

His fingers lightly twitched against hers in response, not having the motivation to do more than that. Marci smiled anyway, "Good, at least you have motor function besides sensation in your extremities. Can you wiggle your feet for me?"

As obnoxious as it was to be asked to perform all the ridiculous little movements, Michael knew the reasoning behind it. A heart attack without a discernible cause was really bad...any other issues had to be found quickly to prevent further damage. That and Dr. Marci needed baselines to see improvement, and how far Michael had slipped considering he had at least consented to a basic exam a few years ago.

Besides being asked to sit up, Dr. Marci was adamant he got to sleep before she made him do that on his own, for now just asking for basic wiggling of his feet and toes, making fists with his hands and circling his wrists. She didn't dare have him move his arms too much, one for all the monitors and IV needles, and two because she wasn't going to risk putting his chest under any sort of strain just yet.

That was until she asked him to flex his left leg as far as it could go, exactly as she had asked him to move his right. Right leg, had bent up almost completely to his chest, shaking a little from the muscles being so weak but otherwise moving normally with only hints of any joint stiffness. The left leg...was instantly on fire the second it was no longer lying prone on the bed, the pain only intensifying the harder Michael tried to move it. Forcing the matter was all it took for him to snap.

Halfway bent up was as far as he could manage, leg shaking and breathing ragged in his throat as he gasped for air between broken sobs that finally slipped free, having been building up in his throat for awhile now at just how bad he felt. Weak...utterly and completely spent, in a lot of pain and truly confused as to what the hell had happened...that's how he felt...throw in apparently a complete loss of emotional control...and his day probably couldn't get any worse...

A second set of hands held him down once his leg was flat again, Dr. Marci spreading the blankets back out properly before a tissue gently wiped Michael's face to clear the tears away.

"It's ok, kinda figured there'd be a weak spot, just relax...come on, keep breathing, and Consul if you say a single word to anyone and I'll kick your ass."

David Whele snorted softly, but met Michael's exhausted gaze evenly when the archangel's eyes locked on him in quick panic, "Take it easy Michael, the last thing you need to do is give yourself another heart attack, you've already been unconscious for two days."

That earned a faint eye roll, the archangel glaring at David with what little anger he had in him at this point while Dr. Marci fiddled with the IV's.

"What...happened…?"

The Consul didn't answer right away, looking at the doctor first, "You sure he didn't have a head injury?"

"Yes Consul Whele, there was faint bruising but nothing else, but need I remind you cardia arrest is very traumatic and can scramble sensory and cognitive memory, leading to lapses in-"

"English Jeannette."

Dr. Marci sighed, "Michael's pretty fucked up from all this, so be a good friend and answer his question before he passes out again."

The rude sarcasm earned a growl from David, Michael didn't care at this point, eyes flicking back to the man next to his hospital bed.

"Do you remember the senate meeting two days ago?"

Michael nodded a little, throat rasping as he spoke, "Was in pain, fell when...stood up…"

David nodded, "You dropped like a rock and Romero swore up and down you'd have a concussion with how hard your head smacked the steps of your chair. She was the one to realize your heart had stopped, thank-well whoever-at this point she was calm enough to perform CPR, everyone else was freaking out until you started breathing again. Riesen dismissed everyone right away and medics were called."

"Neck...brace…" Michael added, that part he could somewhat put together in his head.

"Exactly, by the time you were admitted to the ER, the medics said you had lost all coherency."

Marci sighed, catching Michael's attention, "By that point the best we could do was comfort care, you were relatively stable and then and are now, besides the obvious extreme weak feeling and pain, but I still have no idea what caused this, there isn't a single medical reason I can find for this."

Michael sighed himself, eyes closing in exhaustion as he begun to truly give up on remaining conscious, "I...I can't tell you-"

"Can't or won't?"

David's snap made the archangel cringe, mostly in pain from flinching at the sharp words.

"Can't...I…" Michael hissed sharply, grimacing as he stiffened on the bed, back almost arching up completely from the pain as he growled in the back of his throat.

Dr. Marci was quick to pull a sedative from her pocket, already drawing out a dose from the vial into a syringe when Michael relaxed after a painful minute, gasping for air weakly.

"What year was the Great Wall of China completed?"

"Doctor what in the hell-"

"Shh!"

Michael groaned softly, head tipping to the side as he lost the ability to keep it up and locked on whoever was speaking.

"206 BC."

"Good." With that the doctor injected the sedative into the IV lines, adjusting the flow of one of the bags as Michael and David stared at her.

"Now will you explain?"

Marci sighed, "If he can answer a random question without hesitation besides obvious exhaustion, then he can remember this conversation and continue it when he wakes up. If you can remember yourself Consul, Michael's already woken up twice and asked me what happened, neither of those times he remembers, am I right?"

Michael's furrowed brow was all the answer either of them needed, the archangel didn't have a clue what she was talking about.

"The sedative will knock you out for a few hours, once you wake up we'll work on figuring out what the hell is going on with you alright?"

The archangel nodded, eyes shut and not opening again for anything at this point as someone in the room pulled the blankets up higher.

"For now, I'm taking a blood sample and getting a medication list for you, even if we end up not using them for long, your heart rate is too damn unstable to go without something."

Again Michael nodded, grunting at the needle being stuck into the opposite arm from all the IV tubes, the pain was slowly fading to the point he was just on the brink of sleep when David Whele's hand lightly grasped his shoulder. And Michael knew it could only be him since Dr. Marci's heeled footsteps had already tapped out of the room.

"As much as we do not get along Archangel, I would rather you not be dead."

Somehow Michael managed a low snort, relaxing further as David's hand gently slid off his shoulder as the human stepped away. Seconds later Michael was asleep.

Xxx

 _October 12th, 2039_

Xxx

Michael should have made a bet with someone, he would have won…

Within a week of Alex starting his rotation at the Agri-Tower, it was quickly obvious he would have no time to get to Michael for training other than the days he was completely off duty.

Then there was an angel attack against one of the outposts.

Alex wasn't hurt...but the damage was severe enough he was ordered with several others of his 'team' to help clear up the mess and keep the agriculture locations that were outside the wall secure.

Meaning after a quick meeting with several soldiers, two captains, and the archangel as well, Alex had basically left Vega.

And wouldn't be coming back for quite awhile...

* * *

 **Confused yet? Yes? Ok, that's normal...kinda supposed to be...Thanks for reading!  
**

 **Review please?**


	3. Are You a Saint

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...besides my half OC/half canon characters...who my usual readers are familiar with now, and if you are new, then you will find them pretty quick...**

 **Summary: Christmas present to my readers! Ish...aka I had some miraculous free time and this plot idea wouldn't leave me alone so I decided to write a holiday-ish fic that I hope to have done by the end of the twelve nights of Christmas...January 6th...but it might evolve into more than that so we'll see...but Vega needed a holiday fic. Ok so true summary...let's just say it's going to be crazy...**

 **Author's Note: I have not forgotten or abandoned my other two fics, just taking a bit of a mental break so I can jump into them raring to go. Enjoy this one, it's probably (hopefully) going to be shorter than the others but still as action packed.**

 **Chapter Titles are from _The Cab_ song _Angel with a Shotgun_ , fic title is from _Florence and the Machine_ song _Shake it Off_. Both perfect songs for this.**

 **To Fire and Ash, Fiction111, Danira85, Luna082881gmailcom, Nofsky8: thank you for the faves and follows!**

 **To Pam: Oh wow thank you so much! I don't know what's going on with this site, it's not letting a lot of people on, I'm going to try and see what happens if I try to sign up...see what's going on...anyway, favorite? wow thank you! Umm...maybe a little? Apparently I write Michael!whump...whoops...lol Oh yeah lol, I have a set of OC's for every fandom that I tweak for each story but they're basically the same. And hey, who says they died in "The End"? ;) Well, here you go, not one but TWO more chapters to wind down after a work day. Wow, thank you so much! Not a good reviewer? A good reviewer is one who reviews, even if it's only one word. Thank you!**

 **To GuestM: I am good at confusing people lol, yes a Heart Attack. That's a very good question, why is Michael like this? Read on! Tied to both of them, and maybe Gabriel is and maybe he isn't. Soon...not so much, eventually...highly possible. David was talking with Dr. Marci to get information and happened to be in the room when Michael regained consciousness. Riesen was occupied, and Becca...well read on. I can't have David be too mean...I need him for this story...Here's an update and thank you!**

* * *

 **Chapter Three  
**

 **Are you a saint?  
**

Xxx

 _December 10th, 2039_

Xxx

This time, waking up was much gentler, the pain had dulled to just a weary ache, one that would likely fade with a couple more nights of decent sleep.

Not counting the fact that he definitely wasn't alone, at least judging by the gentle hands lightly rubbing his own, soothing the light stiffness that had settled in his fingers from being without motion.

A soft chuckle made it to his ears as he fought the realm of sleep creeping up again, forcing his mind back to consciousness even though, admittedly, he'd much rather sleep.

"Now that isn't how you treat company at all Michael, leaving me alone to my thoughts like this."

Michael hummed softly, a bare hint of a smirk she didn't see gracing his face, cheeks still twitching with the tape as he finally opened his eyes, "Knowing your thoughts you were well occupied Rebecca."

The Consul let out a soft hum, moving from her chair to sit on the bed beside him, fingers trailing up his arm gently, "True...but I would much rather act on them."

Admittedly, it would have been smarter for one of them to unclip the heart monitor on Michael's hand before they kissed.

Nothing like a screaming machine to ruin the moment….

Becca bit back a giggle as she leaned her forehead on Michael's, holding still as his fingers brushed against her cheek and trailed to her neck, resting there as he winced a bit in lingering pain. "It may not be wise for that just yet."

Michael's eyebrow rose slightly, arm wrapping around her shoulders as she rested her head on his chest, "And why is that?"

She snorted, "You had a heart attack three days ago, and if that monitor is any indicator, you need your rest-"

"That I can agree on Consul Thorn."

Both looked up at Dr. Marci slipping in the door, arms crossing over her chest. Rebecca moved to sit back in the chair, letting the doctor move forward as Michael started coughing, sitting up further than the bed was lifted as he struggled to breathe. Dr. Marci rested a hand on his shoulder, keeping him upright as she kept her stethoscope on his back.

"Use the breathing aid, in through your nose-out through your mouth."

Michael struggled to do so, heaving for air as he collapsed back against the pillows desperately. It did take less time to settle this time than the last, and less pain.

"See, not so bad huh? Here, pop this-aspirin, it's a pain reliever and will help-Michael!"

The archangel ignored her snap, swallowing the pill without water after having crunched down on it without thinking.

Dr. Marci scowled lightly, rolling her eyes as she held up two more pill bottles, pulling them out of the way when Michael reached automatically with a slight glare, "Don't even think about it, no chewing these ok? They're slow-release for a reason archangel."

Becca cleared her throat subtly, "And what gives you the right to speak to Michael like that?"

"Apparently the same right you have for whatever I walked in on Consul," Dr. Marci retorted, "That and I've been tending to Archangel Corps soldiers for eight years now, I've been probably the only one lucky enough to work with Michael before. So I say again, _swallow_ these two, don't chew them or I'll be treating you for overdose."

Michael snorted awkwardly around the cannula, accepting the two small pills and resting them on his tongue before taking the offered water glass. Dr. Marci didn't move away until the archangel swallowed roughly, grimacing at the strain before relaxing.

"Dare I ask what those were?" He asked quietly, voice hoarse now from fatigue.

"Digoxin and an Antiarrhythmic. The pain you're still experiencing is due to your heart being weaker and unable to function fully, it's improving, but still not well enough that I'm going to release you today. Now that you're awake though, care to explain just what the hell is going on since the most I've seen you in here for, previous experience with massive bleeding not included, is when I can convince the other captains to drag your ass in here for an exam. Which, by the way you are overdue for again."

"What," Michael sat up a bit higher to remain awake, bringing a leg up to maintain the position while Dr. Marci picked up the clipboard at the end of his bed and moved to the other chair, "This doesn't count as a normal visit?"

The doctor snorted without looking up from her writing, eyebrow quirking up, "Nice try, not even close. Start talking."

Michael sighed, letting his eyes close, "I can't-"

"You said that yesterday, try again."

"Doctor-"

Dr. Marci let out a loud mimic of a buzzer going off, "Yeah, no try again."

Becca growled softly, crossing her arms in irritation, "Doctor might I suggest I higher level of decorum or at least basic respect, you can be removed from-"

"Rebecca."

She shut up at Michael's firm voice, the archangel staring at her with more strength than he'd had the last few minutes, "Jeanette has not nor will she ever change her ways, considering most medical professionals refuse to work with-let alone treat me, do not expect her to perform differently. And Marci, I cannot tell you because there is no real answer."

"Then give me the best one you got, I can tell just how you're acting you either have had this happen before, or at least know what it is. I'm not discharging you without some answers Michael, and Captain Finch has already agreed to back me."

The archangel let out another sigh, "It's just exhaustion, or over-exhaustion to be more specific. Between stress and lack of rest, an archangel's body can and will force itself to reset basically...takes a couple days but otherwise it's just a defense mechanism to keep from running into the ground."

"So in summary, you were being a dumbass and ignoring everything I told you last time." Dr. Marci quipped, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Last time?" Becca question, glancing to Michael as the archangel let out a soft groan, rubbing at his face in fatigue.

"All you said was I had not used any of my vacation leave-"

"Or personal leave, or business leave, or even sick leave. Face it Michael, you haven't taken a true day off in years, and no, days that you are not technically busy or not in the middle of attacks on Vega do not count as days off. If I have to, I can and will enforce mandatory leave on you like I have others."

"Wait a minute, back up." Becca snapped, moving to sit on the edge of the chair as Michael listlessly glanced her way, struggling to fight against the still present exhaustion, "Are you saying Michael that stress can literally kill you?"

"No, since I technically cannot die, Senator Romero successfully performed CPR and revived me, but given enough time my heart would have restarted by itself. Though with a great deal more pain."

"Would the stab wound have killed you?"

Michael could only shrug, swallowing a yawn, "Possibly, if the damage was severe enough, I could have succumbed to the injury. This however, is merely management until-"

"You've rested enough I'm not threatening house arrest." Dr. Marci cut in, standing finally as Michael failed to bite back another yawn, "I lied, that aspirin had a sleep aid coating, figured you'd refuse me otherwise."

The archangel snorted softly, but did move his arm so she could check the IV port before pressing the button on the side of the bed, lowering the head so he was laying flatter. "That does not surprise me."

"Good, get some rest and I'll be back in a couple hours," With that she turned to leave, replacing the clipboard as Michael shifted sluggishly beneath the blankets. "Oh, and Consul?"

Becca looked up, "Yes?"

"I won't mention what I walked in on, as long as it doesn't happen again while Michael is in the hospital, I would rather not have to lie my way out of the nursing station considering all of us can see the heart monitor readouts on the computers there."

The red head nodded as the doctor stepped out the door, turning back just before closing it behind her, "Get some rest, both of you."

Michael tipped his head to meet Rebecca's gaze as the door clicked shut, "Dare I ask?" He asked quietly, losing the fight to stay awake.

She stood up, "I thought sedatives don't work on you."

"Not unless I am weakened substantially."

"So you'll recover, but this is still pretty bad isn't it?"

He nodded slowly, "I just over did things, give me until tomorrow and it will be as if nothing happened."

Becca hummed, but carefully slid her heels off, sitting on the edge of the bed as Michael shifted to the side a bit, "What I wouldn't give for a chance to figure you out."

"You already have-"

"I meant medically."

Michael snorted, not giving her anything further other than a stifled yawn, "What did Marci mean when she told you to rest as well?"

That earned a chuckle, "I haven't left the hospital since you were admitted."

Then Michael noticed she was still in the same green dress she'd been wearing to the senate meeting three days ago, and he shifted a bit further to the side in invitation.

"Michael...what if someone walks in-"

"They won't, Dr. Marci is aware of you here and will not allow anyone in if she knows I'm sleeping. As brazen as she can be, she does care about the Archangel Corps."

"And you."

Michael shrugged, letting his eyes close and not fighting their desire to no longer open, "In a professional sense only Becca."

"Mhm," But she did stretch out beside him, pulling the top blanket over her legs as she rested her head on the pillow so to not put too much pressure on his arm or shoulder, "She is right though."

"Hmm?"

"You need to rest, especially if stress is causing this, I know it can be arranged for you to take time off, everyone does it-"

"Considering the fact Rebecca, that the last time this happened, man kind had just barely started to discover electricity, time off is not going to be of much use."

"What, think you'll get bored?"

"I know I will."

She chuckled again, relaxing against his side as his hand found hers to hold beneath the covers, "We'll see how you are tomorrow, the clipboard lists some physical therapy tests, pass those and I might be convinced."

"You are aware I can just ignore the orders correct?"

"I know, but I'd rather you didn't if you need the rest."

"Which I'm supposed to be doing now."

Becca laughed truly this time, pressing a light kiss to Michael's cheek, "Then sleep, I won't leave."

Michael hummed softly, drifting off to the sound of her breathing beside him.

Xxx

 _December 11th, 2039_

Xxx

Lt. Rachel Evers had been a valuable member of the AAC since before Michael had even properly established the group, transferring from Vega's starting army as an enlisted nursing student who had gotten caught on the wrong side of the war on the day of reckoning. Vega knew her as a gal who just wanted the war to end to make up for losing her family and her army unit. Michael knew her as a damned good medical officer who was tough as nails and had a solid head on her shoulders.

That and she didn't take crap from anyone, especially soldiers trying to wimp out of their therapy if injured severely enough it required more than an infirmary stay.

Meaning Michael was sure as hell glad it was the Lieutenant on duty when he was scheduled for tests the next afternoon, considering the other therapist was honestly too scared of him to be in the same room let alone work with the archangel properly.

With his heart rate back to "normal", Dr. Marci was only calling it normal because she had as she put it a 'measly average from so few proper exams', and the only pain was from stiff joints due to lack of movement, Michael had been cleared for the physical testing before he'd be discharged completely. He felt fine, now that he'd slept more and eaten a decent meal after Becca had finally left. Stopping himself from completely inhaling the food the minute Dr. Marci brought it in was a challenge, it was no surprise his body had shut down, Michael couldn't honestly say when he'd last gotten several consecutive nights of sleep-let alone a decent meal.

He needed to stop agreeing to meet with Uriel late at night, it wasn't helping anything since he'd more often than not return to Vega pissed off beyond belief and unable to settle down for several hours. Uriel was just infuriating…

That and she had a tendency to get Gabriel to meet her as well and the twin brothers usually argued each and every time.

No...what Michael really needed to do was find a way to stop this war-

"Ouch!"

Scratch that, Michael needed to pay attention to what he was doing instead of letting his thoughts wander, like becoming oblivious to moving his own legs and accidentally stepping on Lt. Evers' hand.

"My apologies Lieutenant."

"No biggie, try going all the way to your chest this time."

Michael nodded, inhaling gently as he tucked his knee to his chest, barely feeling Lt. Evers' hands on his foot and calf as he did so, unlike the time after he first woke up, his left leg moved flawlessly, no pain or even stiffness as the officer then guided his hip sideways as far as he could go without rolling his hips.

"How in the fuck are you more flexible than I am? And I work in a gym all day!" She grumbled, letting his leg relax to the floor as she leaned back.

Michael ignored her comment, but did accept her hand up to move on. Flexibility and motion done, now he got down to what the archangel personally considered entertaining. Strength testing…

Considering the hospital didn't have the weights that the barracks did, that meant Michael got to see how long it took him to break the punching bag. His record for destroying one was about three minutes.

Today, he made it to five and a half before the first rip appeared, and knew it was only a matter of time before even this reinforced bag gave in. And that was with him holding back his punches so Lt. Evers' could properly gauge his actions.

That was until she told him to give it all he had, and the door to the hospital gym banged shut as someone entered, throwing off Michael's focus just enough that his kick was in no way gentle, ripping open the bag and even snapping it off the ceiling.

Scratch that, the motion shattered the metal support ring entirely and the bag came crashing down to explode the second it hit the floor, sending sand _everywhere_.

Riesen simply stared as Michael finally stood up from having ducked over Lt. Evers' instinctively, wings shaking the sand loose before retracting in a flash. The punching bag had been destroyed, and part of the ceiling had come down with it, at least nothing had happened structurally...this time.

"Judging by that Michael, I believe you are fine."

Lt. Evers snorted before straightening up, brushing down her scrubs, "General, I believe you are correct."

Xxx

Dr. Marci did one up Michael, while he was with Lt. Evers, she had spoken with Riesen, both army captains, and all four AAC captains. Meaning when the archangel left the hospital late afternoon, it was to only go to the Stratosphere for the remainder of the day to rest. No reports, no senate meetings, no training sessions, no patrols, no nothing until nine o'clock the next morning.

It was as good as the doctor was going to get considering Michael could still leave Vega and do as he pleased. To be honest though once back at the Stratosphere having showered and changed, Michael wondered if his remaining put was for his own good or was he just humoring everyone.

While much better, there was enough lingering fatigue in his veins he knew it wasn't worth his time or energy to leave Vega, even if he could justifiably go and check on Alex like he'd been meaning to do so for a month now. Logically, he was the only one able to check on the outpost security and still be back within the walls safely.

Logically he needed to rest so he didn't crash again.

Michael sighed softly, shifting to lean on the window frame casually as he watched the last of the sunset slip beneath the far horizon, the sky a dusky peach color as it faded into a rich indigo. Once he could see a thousand other colors within the sunset each night, now he saw only a handful past a human's vision. At least he could still look at the sun and not be blinded, it had admittedly taken him several decades after being around humans for the first time to fake the pain one received if they stared at the life giving star. Humans were always trying to copy angels...

No longer...and no longer was he alone as soft shoes trekked into his suite, the faint whisper of a dress skirt brushing the smooth floors reached his ears before he turned around.

"No company tonight?"

"I figured you could use the rest." Becca replied, running her hands over his back and shoulders and smiling at how he instantly relaxed under her touch.

"And who says I want to rest?"

"What you want and what you need are two very different things."

"Not always."

Becca smirked, but let him lead her back to the bed, relaxing into his kiss with a soft hum as he pulled her close. Somehow Michael got her laying flat, stretched out above her as he kissed his way down her neck gently.

"Just because sex can be recommended after a heart attack...doesn't mean it's advisable here."

Michael snorted into her collarbone, lips moving back to hers with an ever gentle touch, always careful to never hurt her. "I am fine Rebecca, besides…'light activity' is encouraged."

She laughed then, melting into his kiss as her hands ran over his back, tugging him closer.

"Well then why didn't you say so?"

* * *

 **Confused yet? Yes? Ok, that's normal...kinda supposed to be...Thanks for reading!  
**

 **Review please?**


	4. Or a Sinner

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...besides my half OC/half canon characters...who my usual readers are familiar with now, and if you are new, then you will find them pretty quick...**

 **Summary: Christmas present to my readers! Ish...aka I had some miraculous free time and this plot idea wouldn't leave me alone so I decided to write a holiday-ish fic that I hope to have done by the end of the twelve nights of Christmas...January 6th...but it might evolve into more than that so we'll see...but Vega needed a holiday fic. Ok so true summary...let's just say it's going to be crazy...**

 **Author's Note: I have not forgotten or abandoned my other two fics, just taking a bit of a mental break so I can jump into them raring to go. Enjoy this one, it's probably (hopefully) going to be shorter than the others but still as action packed.**

 **Chapter Titles are from _The Cab_ song _Angel with a Shotgun_ , fic title is from _Florence and the Machine_ song _Shake it Off_. Both perfect songs for this.**

* * *

 **Chapter Four  
**

 **Or a Sinner?  
**

Xxx

 _December 12th, 2039_

Xxx

Michael ran his fingers through his hair, ensuring the last of the soap was gone from the black strands as he stood under the cascade of hot water. Funny how something so simple as a shower could feel so good.

Then again it wasn't on the same level as last night…

Not that Michael could say much, to be honest it hadn't been the best sex between himself and the Consul, mainly because his lingering exhaustion had decided to attack his joints, stiffening his movements and leaving him on his back while Rebecca...'took the reins'...or whatever she had said when she'd managed to flip their positions sometime last night. Neither had lasted long, and Michael was quick to welcome sleep with open arms once Becca had drifted off next to him. One, he was tired, and two...because if Becca woke up at any point and found him still conscious, she'd keep talking…

About things Michael really didn't want to discuss.

Like Alex…

And judging by her lack of interest or even common sense to have basic respect for Michael's own thoughts, seemed to think the Chosen One was some big joke, brushing off any talk of the tattooed soldier with little care towards Michael's reaction.

The archangel let it be after she'd blatantly said it wasn't worth worrying about.

Right now, the only thing on Michael's mind was moving silently as he exited the shower and began to dress for work, aka an assessment day in the Archangel Corps, several soldiers were up for promotion and Michael had agreed weeks ago to be part of the testing. The last thing he wanted to do was wake Becca as he left, it was easier to just fade out and let her leave on her own time.

Xxx

 _Archangel Corps Barracks_

 _Third Floor Gym_

 _09:38am_

Xxx

The clanging of swords was pure music to Michael's ears at this point as he ducked a rather well aimed swing from the current sergeant he was testing, bringing one of his own blades up to block the next thrust and make a move of his own.

Noma Banks had always been one to watch, ever since basics Michael had been keeping an eye on her, and now he was thoroughly pleased with her progress as she jumped back from a strike, drawing him closer to her before landing a hit on his arm.

A human would have a bruise, maybe even drop their weapon, Michael simply nodded in acknowledgement of the hit, earning one from the sergeant. At least she kept her cool when receiving praise, some soldiers grew cocky, and in turn sloppy. Attitudes like that got people-soldiers and civilians alike-killed.

Sgt. Banks spun away from another strike, ducking under his second blade and kicking out sharply, that was rather clever considering up to this point she hadn't used her legs at all other than movement.

Michael was hesitant to admit the hit landed partially because he wasn't prepared to block it...but the kick struck true against his left thigh, solid and strong.

It wasn't even a second after the hit that Michael knew that something was wrong...and a lot more than just a simple stress issue a few days ago.

How did he know this?

His left leg gave out entirely with sharp agony that dropped him to the floor. Somehow he twisted to avoid landing on his swords, clutching at his leg in pain as he nearly face planted onto the gym mats. Michael couldn't move, couldn't hardly breathe, the acute pain ran so deep into the muscle and even the bones that there was just nothing he could do besides hope and _pray_ it stopped.

The set of hands that grabbed his shoulders and gently moved him so his face wasn't pressed into the floor only hesitated once, probably when his head turned enough they could see the tight grimace. Michael couldn't see them, but he figured it had to be Sgt. Banks since they had been at his side instantaneously.

Noma tried to check his leg, her tone was questioning but the words were indecipherable to the archangel, not until another set of hands tugged on an arm firmly. Two soldiers got his arms over their soldiers, just about dragging him upright as his left leg was entirely unresponsive.

Somewhere in the haze of pain he heard the word 'infirmary', and by this point Michael couldn't agree more, managing to shift and grab onto the soldiers' vests to keep his balance. They responded by wrapping their arms around his back better, one of them stuttering in their steps as they hit the wall button to open the infirmary doors ahead of them.

"Carla! Get over here!"

"Sure what's the- _Michael_?"

Noma grunted softly, adjusting her grip as Michael almost hunched over when his leg cramped, growling deep in his throat. Another set of hands helped steady him up onto one of the exam beds, the light directly over his head immediately shut off before another was flicked on lower down.

"Talk to me Ethan."

Sgt. Hanson's sharp demand was met with a blank tone, "I got nothing, turned around when Noma yelled and the archangel was on the floor."

"Noma?"

The female sergeant was more direct, and calmer as she apparently shoved Mack out of the way to follow Carla's instructions to adjust the bed, "Assessment sparring, I landed a kick on his thigh and he dropped right after, there's no way I did actual damage though, that was nothing compared to other hits I've done."

"Since when can a kick drop the archangel anyway?" Mack tried to joke, but even through the pain Michael knew the jest fell flat.

Carla growled, "Go get Captain Mason, he's up in the command room."

"On it."

Michael flinched at the banging door, only because he hadn't realized the sergeant had made it across the room that fast, Sgt. Hanson's hands on his leg checking for injuries were making it difficult to focus on anything other than keeping his fists at his sides so he didn't hurt the soldier.

"Archangel, can you tell me what's wrong? I can't find any surface injuries."

"Not...surface...can't…" Michael hissed, growling deeply and instantly regretting it when Sgt. Banks took a nervous step back. Sgt. Hanson didn't seem to care, still trying to determine the problem without hurting Michael further.

The archangel groaned, moving his hand to his thigh and disrupting her prodding.

"That's not helping-"

"Ice." That's all Michael could get out in response, hissing again as he tried to rub out the cramping muscles. What felt like minutes, in reality it was about twenty seconds later, an ice pack was pressed against his thigh. Michael barely bit back the yelp in his throat, groaning at the agony as the sharp cold penetrated the pain.

Somewhere he realized Sgt. Hanson was holding him up, keeping him on the bed after he'd rolled sideways to try and curl into a ball as his hand pushed the ice pack into his leg almost as hard as he could. And somewhere he could hear her voice trying to keep him calm, keep him breathing. Michael wasn't entirely sure he wanted to anymore at this point, breathing meant he could still feel this horrible and not be dead.

Slowly...ever so slowly, the pain started to die down enough Michael could actually focus on something other than that, panting for air as he started to relax a little, or at least wasn't as tense.

"Now can you hear me?"

Michael nodded into the crappy infirmary pillow, groaning softly as the pain continued to ease up, still ridiculously slow, but there was some improvement.

"Ok, that's better, how about we try-"

"Knock-knock, whose home?"

Sgt. Hanson growled defensively, but didn't snap back as Captain Mason entered the room, Carla did however adjust her hold on Michael's shoulder and arm so it was less clinging to keep him still and more medically professional support.

"Captain."

"Sergeant. Banks and Mack are on guard outside, figured an interruption would be pretty bad right about now. Archangel, thought you were done giving everyone medical scares."

Michael almost growled in response, biting it back with a grimace as he cracked open his eyes finally, "Apparently not Captain."

Mason snorted, but there was still genuine concern on his face as he shifted on his feet, "Care to explain?"

The archangel openly growled then, this time in pain as he forced himself to sit up, twisting on the bed painfully and slowly. Carla anticipated what he needed, popping up the front of the bed so Michael could lean back on it right away, and she folded down half of the other end, letting the archangel's good leg bend and hang down so he was more comfortable. Leaving his left leg laid out flat to not dislodge the ice pack.

"Stress." Was all Michael said, letting his eyes close again as he rode out a short cramp.

Captain Mason shifted again, this time in irritation as his arms crossed over his uniform, "You said that about the heart attack, and tested fine afterwards. Now less than twenty-four hours later you end up in the infirmary. Explain, with actual details."

If it weren't for the fact this was truly the first time Michael had _ever_ been in the AAC infirmary, the archangel might have been upset at the blatant insubordination the captain was displaying. As it was, he didn't blame Mason for his concern, hesitating just long enough to shift the ice pack to a better position, hand still pressing it firmly against his thigh.

"It's stress captain, horrible side effect of it, but stress nonetheless."

"Details Michael, I wasn't joking about that."

Now Michael was irritated, it was one thing to demand an explanation, it was another for his officers to be this rude. His eyes flashed open, narrowing in anger as the captain backed up a step, but he didn't retract his statement.

"Understand Captain, archangels do not heal the same as humans-nor most other angels."

"Alright." Mason nodded, arms still crossed in wait.

Michael grimaced as he shifted on his hips slightly, "I sustained an injury to my leg many years ago, and was unable to access aid at the time. I was left with the choice of doing it myself or suffer excruciating pain until either someone heard me...or I was found."

"What's the difference?"

"If I had been found, I would have been dead."

Mason snorted, back up and sitting on the next medical bed, nodding as Sgt. Hanson stepped away to return to her desk. Michael bit back a sigh, continuing on with just an edge of fatigue in his voice, "I made the mistake of fixing the break in my femur myself. And while it worked, it has left my leg prone to reminding me of my stupidity."

"If it worked how is that stupid?"

Now Michael hesitated because he'd rather not have to talk about this, only speaking because it was the only way Mason would leave him alone. "I was not at all adept at healing, others especially but I was particularly bad at trying to heal myself. The wound healed, but not without leaving me essentially scarred, if my body is aggravated enough, the injury-"

"Relapses." Carla interrupted, having apparently been listening in while typing, "Phantom pain from muscle memory."

Michael nodded, glancing over at her slightly, "Exactly."

"Had to be your left leg huh?"

The archangel's brow furrowing made Captain Mason go on, sounding a bit calmer now, but still concerned. "Heart attacks are usually preceded by pain in the left leg and arm, the last thing I wanted to hear when Sgt. Mack came running in was you'd gone down because of your left leg. Especially since Finch told me you'd been favoring it before the heart attack."

That earned a low snort, Michael shaking his head as he leaned back further, "No, nothing like that, just over did things too quickly and am paying for it now."

"Anything I can do?" Now at least Mason was being respectful, and appropriate to his rank as he stood up.

Michael shook his head again, "I just have to wait this out, the pain will fade given enough time without the use of my leg."

"Alright then, I'll keep guards posted so you're not disturbed, have someone page me if needed."

The captain left when Michael nodded in agreement, once the door had swung shut again, he let his head rest back on the bed and closed his eyes for a moment with a faint sigh.

"Sir."

Opening them again was a tad harder than Michael expected, hiding his surprise at how quickly he'd become so exhausted when he found Sgt. Hanson beside him again, now holding out a water bottle for him. Michael took it only after she took over holding the ice pack in place, allowing him to use both hands to open the bottle.

She let him be for another minute, clearing her throat softly when Michael lowered his hand and rested his head back again.

"Would you be more comfortable in the Stratosphere? I can have a transport ready in ten minutes."

"No," Michael replied, "It would not do any good considering I cannot put any weight on my leg at the moment as it is."

"Crutches then."

Michael tried to decide if Sgt. Hanson was nervous around him, and that's why she was trying to make him leave, or she was genuinely concerned and was throwing out reasonable options. Considering she didn't fidget or tense up at all when Michael flexed his ankle and had to grab his thigh over top of her hand already on the ice pack when his leg throbbed, she was truly trying to help. Carla didn't flinch at all as his hand nearly completely covered hers, squeezing slightly as he grimaced openly in pain.

"They will not…" Michael hissed, trying to speak and at the same time not let anything else slip from his throat, "Help at the moment."

"Oh?"

Instead of replying, Michael let go of his leg, holding up the hand and revealing how badly it was shaking, earning a soft sigh from the soldier as she stepped back and let him return to holding the ice pack, one for its use and two so it hid the trembling.

"What can I do?"

"I told-"

"Sir, you told Captain Mason what he wanted to hear so he would leave, but that's not going to help you right now. I don't have access to your medical records. I ask again, what can I do?"

Michael sighed softly, his shoulders slumping a touch as he gave in, to be honest he was in too much pain to ignore the fact he needed help, that and if he had any chance of _not_ being readmitted to the hospital in the next few hours, he'd have to comply with the on staff nurse in front of him.

"There isn't...much that would help, ice keeps the muscle from cramping too badly, I just wait out the spasms until I can bear weight on the leg again."

Carla huffed almost silently, but nodded, "Alright then, let me know when that pack has thawed out. Want anything? I've got some books stashed in the closet."

"No, thank you."

She nodded, returning to her desk silently and continuing with whatever she'd been working on when Michael had been dragged in earlier.

The archangel let his eyes shut again, his mind still reeling over the last few days and now this, with the sounds of Sgt. Hanson typing in the background, Michael slid into a light trance, intending on meditating while his leg slowly recovered enough that he'd be able to leave. Preferably before he was expected to be at House Riesen that evening.

Xxx

Michael huffed out a breath as he blinked in the dim light, first realizing he was noticeably warmer than when he'd closed his eyes, probably due to being covered by a thick blanket.

And realized he'd fallen asleep.

At some point, Sgt. Hanson had changed out the ice pack, now a larger one lay draped over his entire thigh and part of his knee, effectively numbing the leg entirely. But it also chilled the archangel to the bone, hence the actual shaking he could still feel in his limbs even with the heavy blanket. The ache was slowly fading, but nowhere near even tolerable let alone mobile, his leg was just shot, and wasn't going to be better anytime soon.

Judging by the deep seated fatigue still weighing down Michael's head, he'd already slept for quite awhile. Sgt. Hanson was still at the computer terminal, looking like she hadn't moved at all, but there was no other explanation for the blanket covering Michael's chest, or that the lights had been dimmed even further.

The soldier did stand up when he shuddered again, this time groaning softly in pain as the movement jarred his leg. She didn't speak, but did retrieve a heating pad from the cabinet, hooking it up next to the bed and helping Michael sit up enough to slide it behind his back to lean against. The sigh he let out was tell tale that the heat was much needed and appreciated, to the point he barely nodded in thanks before he fell back asleep.

Xxx

By the time he woke up again, Sgt. Hanson was not in the infirmary anymore, judging by the low voices at the doors she was just outside. Michael tried to move, gritting his teeth at how stiff he was, but just sitting up completely and setting both the blanket and now lukewarm ice pack aside didn't result in cramping pain. Meaning the archangel was gingerly testing his leg, standing on his good one fully when the doors opened to let General Riesen and David Whele in, both dressed up smartly for the formal dinner in an hour.

"Michael, are you alright?"

The archangel nodded, glancing to Sgt. Hanson as she stood silently off to the side while Captain Mason paused behind the Lord of the city and Head Consul. "I am fine general, merely stiff, though I-"

Michael grunted loudly, having managed a handful of steps before his leg gave out, grabbing at the nearest bed to remain standing.

"Michael."

He waved off Riesen's hand, grimacing as he straightened up and rubbed at his leg, "Though apparently I am unable to walk completely."

David sighed softly, "I wouldn't recommend pushing it either, that can cause irreparable damage that no one wants."

Nodding, Michael turned to lean against the bed, still rubbing at his thigh as Captain Mason turned to Sgt. Hanson and motioned for something. The archangel ignored her after she moved past him, more concerned with just what the hell he was going to do.

Though apparently the on duty nurse was ahead of him, resting a set of crutches against the bed before she kneeled in front of him and cupped her hands together.

"Push your heel against my hands."

Michael complied, letting her bend his leg up a bit before trying to straighten it out with the resistance of her hands. He watched her face, even as his own grimaced in pain, Carla remained calm, and solid. Her arms barely moved as he tried to push her hands down, growling in pain and frustration when his leg was shaking with how hard he was trying to get it to bend.

This was not good…

Carla pulled away when he stopped moving, panting for air through his nose sharply and gripping the edge of the bed hard enough he was tearing holes in the padding. "There's still muscle damage, or fatigue. I'd rather you not walk on it at all if you can help it. But letting the rest of you grow stiff isn't going to help either. I'm sorry sir but crutches are the best option right now."

Xxx

 _House Riesen_

 _December 13th, 2039_

 _03:48am_

Xxx

Sgt. Hanson was right, crutches were necessary, and much appreciated as Michael limped around Riesen's grand dining hall, conversing with the other V-6s smoothly and keeping the focus off his health and on what was more important, like Vega's ration system discrepancies.

He managed to fake it for quite awhile, making it through the 'cocktail hour' as Senator Romero was calling it, the actual dinner itself-all five courses that he managed to almost force down just enough of each dish to be appropriate, and was surviving the coffee and deserts afterwards just fine. Even if he truly loathed these gatherings and the forced civility, he had yet to fail a 'performance' through one of the evenings. Though only Riesen probably knew how fake Michael's presence was.

Michael was counting the minutes as he stood behind the lounges the women had settled upon to converse until everyone agreed to go home. He'd set aside one of the crutches, trusting his right leg to support him enough with just one of the aids as he mostly listened to the idle chatter as he sipped at his drink, wishing it was rum instead of wine.

Somewhere in the chatter, Becca glanced back at him, conversing with Captain Mason standing beside Michael briefly before her eyes settled on Michael, winking quickly.

The archangel ignored her, mostly, turning to grab the other crutch leaning against the wall as Riesen called an end to the evening. Becca wasn't to be ignored though, standing and moving casually to his side.

"Archangel, if I may-"

She didn't get to finish, as Michael physically staggered when trying to walk, having to grab at the couch in front of him with one hand as the other clutched his chest. The wine glass hit the floor with an impressive crash, shattering instantly and catching everyone's attention.

Michael groaned softly, "Captain."

"Sir?"

"You…" He coughed, his chest aching as he tried to speak, "...you were right...earlier…"

"About what?"

"Pain...left side…" With that Michael lost control of his body, stuck fully aware of everything but unable to stop it.

Consul Thorn wrapped her arms around him as he choked, unable to breathe properly as he slumped against her when his legs gave out entirely. Captain Mason was there instantly, guiding them both to the floor as Michael clutched at the Consul's arms, losing his vision as the room spun.

Someone shouted for a medic, but he couldn't tell who, the only thing Michael knew was his lungs refused to take in air, suffocating him while he was conscious.

He could _feel_ his heart stopping…

It utterly terrified him as he tried everything to just breathe, gasping and choking frantically.

"What the hell? Michael was medically cleared as fine!"

"Well obviously not David!"

"Lay him down flat-"

Michael croaked, struggling as two more sets of hands tried to lay him down on the floor, the second he lost contact with Becca was the second he lost the ability to breathe entirely. It hurt to feel his lungs basically be empty and still trying to keep him alive.

"Shit!"

"Don't move him!"

"He needs to lay flat if it's a heart attack!"

Romero growled, "So? Whatever keeps Michael breathing is all that matters, I don't care if Becca is having sex with him, as long as he doesn't turn blue!"

"Oh how ironic." David snarked, but _even_ dying, Michael could hear it was half-hearted from the Consul.

Becca didn't respond, or if she did Michael never heard it, instead she kept Michael half laying against her as he gasped for air and clutched at her arms in bare panic.

When asked later, Michael couldn't truly say how long it took for the medics to arrive, he did know it hurt like hell as they maneuvered him onto another back board, this time forgoing the neck brace and instead shoving an oxygen mask over his face.

The slight reprieve with the forced air was short lived. While it did blur the trip to the ER, the effects faded soon after arriving and he jerked on the gurney as his lungs refused to work yet again.

"Where the hell is Jeanette?!"

"You seriously think she's on duty at four in the morning?!"

"Get her in here now!"

Michael's chest hitched, and he wasn't able to stop the frantic whine in his throat as the pain lanced up and down his spine. His heart throbbed as it struggled to keep moving, make his body just ache like none other.

"Dammit he's crashing!"

"Intubate him!"

That was awful...the metal tool and then plastic tube being forced down his throat as his chest tightened even further.

God...why was he still awake?

Why couldn't he just pass out? He just wanted to give in when the first electric shock hit his chest, the paddles gluing themselves to his chest in the milliseconds it took to deliver the shock before they released. His entire frame jerked, unable to do anything other than drop back to the gurney lifelessly.

Michael wanted to cry, in relief and pain as he _finally_ slid into merciful black.

If only that annoying buzzing sound would go away…

Oh, that meant he'd flat lined.

Well damn.

* * *

 **Confused yet? Yes? Ok, that's normal...kinda supposed to be...Thanks for reading!  
**

 **Review please?**


	5. If Love's a Fight

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...besides my half OC/half canon characters...who my usual readers are familiar with now, and if you are new, then you will find them pretty quick...**

 **Summary: Christmas present to my readers! Ish...aka I had some miraculous free time and this plot idea wouldn't leave me alone so I decided to write a holiday-ish fic that I hope to have done by the end of the twelve nights of Christmas...January 6th...but it might evolve into more than that so we'll see...but Vega needed a holiday fic. Ok so true summary...let's just say it's going to be crazy...**

 **Author's Note: I have not forgotten or abandoned my other two fics, just taking a bit of a mental break so I can jump into them raring to go. Enjoy this one, it's probably (hopefully) going to be shorter than the others but still as action packed.**

 **Chapter Titles are from _The Cab_ song _Angel with a Shotgun_ , fic title is from _Florence and the Machine_ song _Shake it Off_. Both perfect songs for this.**

 **To Mazza775, AtillatheNun: Thank you for the faves and follows!**

 **To Guest #1: Thank you! Here's the update!**

 **To Guest #2: Wow indeed, as to the cause, not this chapter but the next holds some of the answers. Thank you!**

 **To Guest #3: You're welcome! I love writing and love that people enjoy reading it! Thanks for your review!**

 **To Guest #4: Wonderful you say? Thank you so much!**

 **To Mina: Hello! Yes it is I! Enjoy and thank you!**

* * *

 **Chapter Five  
**

 **If Loves a Fight...  
**

Xxx

 _December 14th, 2039_

 _5:17pm_

Xxx

Somewhere in the haze he realized there was someone else in the room with him, but that did little to encourage his exhausted mind to return to any form of consciousness. It hurt...to breathe...to think...to exist...but the pain was at least marginally less than when he'd left House Riesen.

Multiple monitors were humming and beeping nearby, the soft, yet endless cacophony made it difficult to focus as his mind slowly dragged itself from the abyss.

"There's nothing more to tell you Consul Thorn, the blood tests reveal absolutely nothing new, Michael's body is physically shutting down. Between his heart problems and the muscle pain, everything is just failing...I can't even begin to guess as to how long his liver is going to hold out with his kidneys and lungs already having issues. There's only so much I can do."

Dr. Marci sounded pretty pissed, but Michael had no desire to join in on the conversation, nor was he sure he even had the strength to move his head let alone speak. Apparently Becca wasn't having it though, growling irritably. The voices were muffled like there was something else between them and the archangel, making the sounds odd as they continued.

"What other tests have you done?"

The doctor snorted, "I've told you a dozen times now, I've pretty much done them all besides an angiogram and I'd really rather have Michael be conscious for that one. Especially considering his blood pressure dropped significantly during the MRI. Consul, I will inform you of any news when I have it, but for now-"

"No! Neither one of us is leaving until we get some answers!"

"Oh shut up Rebecca!" Whele snapped, "Doctor, do you any idea when Michael is going to wake up?"

"I don't know, the sedative I'd administered when he arrived was only good for a twelve hour dose, Michael being unconscious this long leads me to believe he's basically shut down mentally as well as physically. I can run basic neuro activity tests but I have no baselines for those measurements so I could be looking at him dreaming or in a coma and won't know the difference."

"Then-"

A chair scraped on the floor suddenly and the door to the hospital room opened; the voices briefly rose in volume before Riesen cut them all off.

"I've had enough of you two senators, I suggest you leave before I authorize Dr. Marci in banning you from the hospital unless medically necessary."

If Whele or Thorn argued, Michael never heard it, the door shut again as Riesen returned, this time forgoing the chair and stepping right up to the bed considering his hand dropped lightly onto Michael's, gently clasping the fist bunched in the sheets.

"Relax Michael, they're gone and I know you're awake."

Michael twitched slightly, huffing out through his nose as he tried to remind his head what it was like to move from being tipped to the side in sleep. Apparently he'd reacted to the voices, which is why his hand was now in a tight fist that Riesen was gently rubbing to stop.

"Can you open your eyes at least?"

He tried that instead of moving, coughing weakly as his face scrunched in both effort and displeasure at being disturbed. The realm of sleep hadn't been this demanding…

But he managed, blinking hazily in the dim light as Riesen moved to the other side of the bed so the archangel could see him.

"There, that's better than watching you sleep. How do you feel?"

Michael moaned, wishing that was enough to express just how awful he felt, but it wouldn't be anywhere near enough as he swallowed roughly, trying to get air down to his lungs even with the nasal cannula blowing into his nose.

"Like…" Michael grimaced, voice rasping in his throat, "...like...you need to step back…"

Riesen hesitated only a moment, confused until Michael coughed again, this time his entire body jerking with the spasm. A blur of white and blue slid in front of Michael's spinning vision as he gagged, coughing once before throwing up into the waiting bucket. Whoever was helping him didn't seem to care he was squeezing their arm as hard as he could when he twisted to the side, struggling to breathe around the body shaking heaves wracking his frame.

"C'mon archangel, that's worthless, I've seen more vomit in some of your soldiers coming to me for bad hangovers."

If Dr. Marci was trying to be funny, she failed, but Michael's body was apparently going to try and one up her by jerking again, this time the heave left him almost in tears as he choked. To say the meal from Riesen's dinner hadn't tasted good going down was an understatement, but it sure as hell tasted awful coming back up.

There was a reason he drank rum instead of wine…

"You call that throwing up? I thought angels were better than humans at everything."

Michael groaned, retching again as he hunched over the side of the bed, hand dropping from Dr. Marci's arm as he lost the strength to hold on to her.

"Seriously-"

"Doctor." Michael moaned, cutting off Jeanette's latest taunt, " _Shut up_."

"Ha! There it is, figured I could get something out of you."

"Considering…" The archangel interrupted himself with heavy coughing, spitting out the bile in his throat, "I think I just threw up my stomach _and_ my will to live, you've gotten plenty."

"Yeah but you're talking so tada!"

"Doctor!"

Michael snorted awkwardly at Riesen's complaint, moaning in pain as he slumped against the bed as he calmed down enough to breathe, albeit raggedly until the doctor pulled the cannula off and slid a full mask over his face.

"Just breathe, it's alright."

The archangel couldn't bite back the moan this time as he remained almost curled into ball, trying to combat how tight his chest was and how badly his stomach was cramping.

"Man when you crash you go down hard huh?" Marci teased, gently taking Michael's wrist and checking his pulse and the IV port taped in his arm.

"Apparently." Michael replied, closing his eyes as he gave in to the fatigue already wracking his body.

"Hey…" She gently shook his shoulder, rubbing his arm lightly as he moaned in complaint. "No sleeping just yet, I need to talk to you."

This time the moan was tinged with frustration, "There's nothing to tell…" Michael hissed between his teeth, moaning again as the doctor helped him sit up better and settle back into the pillows he'd woken up against, closing his eyes against the brief flash of vertigo.

"I highly doubt stress was the cause unless you can crash consecutively like that after already recovering."

Michael shrugged, wincing at his stiff joints before glancing back at the doctor beside him, "It's not stress...not this...I can't tell you because I don't know."

Dr. Marci grimaced, but nodded in understanding, slightly, "Got any ideas, I'm at a loss here Michael."

He shook his head, "You're not the only one. The angiogram may be the best idea at the moment."

"You were awake for that?"

"Somewhat. But like then, I'd much rather be asleep."

"Fine…" Dr. Marci eased the blankets back up, adjusting the head so Michael wouldn't tip sideways since he was having enough trouble breathing let alone maintaining his position, "Sleep now, but the next time you wake up it's test time, at least there's nothing in your stomach for the dye, but I don't feel comfortable waiting on this. Not with your vitals so shaky right now."

"Mhm."

The doctor stepped back as Michael began to lose his grip on world of the living, hearing everything but being truly unable to open his eyes again.

"General, if I may ask you to ensure Michael isn't disturbed, I know you were talking about posting guards earlier."

"I'll get right on it, and inform me immediately if any of the senators arrive with the intent on visiting."

"Shall I inform the consuls Michael woke up?"

"No, not tonight. I'll speak with them in the morning."

"Alright, I'll have that room prepped for you again general. Sleep well Michael."

The archangel shifted slightly in response, somehow managing a nod before the door shut behind Jeanette. It sounded like Riesen was gathering up some papers and preparing to leave, and that gave Michael just enough focus to turn and look at him.

"I'll be down the hall archangel, been staying here overnight and the staff can page me in an instant if you need me-"

"Don't…"

"Don't what? Thought you were falling asleep."

Michael snorted, pausing as that made the oxygen mask hitch slightly, "I am...just…"

His trailing off was accompanied by his eyes closing, but he knew Riesen was well aware he hadn't fallen asleep. That was never more obvious than the general stepping closer and resting his hand over Michael's again, this time the gentle squeeze was of reassurance.

"This isn't easy is it?"

The fact that Michael refused to answer was tell tale enough, that and Riesen could see it in his eyes when he forced them to lock on the human's.

"I just...I'd rather not…" Michael sighed, shaking his head as he sagged into the pillow further, in exhaustion mostly, but also…

"You'd rather not be alone."

Again Michael couldn't answer, gritting his teeth slightly, but he did relax as the general took a seat beside the bed again, chuckling softly as he flipped through his papers and found his private radio.

"Hard to admit it, isn't it?"

Michael hummed softly, twisting to lay on his side a bit as the darkness started to take over again, without the blaring alarms.

"Admitting it makes it real."

If General Riesen responded, Michael didn't notice, he fell asleep listening to the Lord of the City quietly speaking with the AAC captains over the radio about guards.

Xxx

 _December 15th, 2039_

 _02:56am_

Xxx

Being wheeled down to the radiology department was a bit strange, Michael was too tired to really focus and had decided keeping his eyes only half open was enough to convince Dr. Marci to leave him alone while the gurney was moved through the hallways.

Well that and he just didn't care right now, even with Riesen in the room, he'd slept horribly and woken up in pain and still exhausted. Not counting his pride got in the way and he refused help from the hospital bed to the gurney, meaning his leg was killing him after only supporting his weight for about two seconds.

Dr. Marci had kept quiet but Michael didn't need to hear her displeasure at just how much he was pushing it already. Her irritation was almost tangible in the air even if her hands were gentle when they helped him up a second time, only this time he really needed the aid, grimacing as his body refused to move properly.

"You're lucky I have just about full access in this hospital, Dr. Reed's a total bitch about patients doing anything."

Michael ignored her comment, easing back onto the x-ray table with a wince while the doctor began to buckle the straps over his legs and torso.

"You're also lucky there's that auxiliary vein running over your shoulder, I hate doing lower abdominal catheters."

The archangel snorted, but let her guide his arm over his chest properly so she could access the vein in question that started on his back and moved over his shoulder to his heart. "That's the first time having wings has been an advantage medically."

She chuckled, "So that's what it's for?"

"Essentially, it's not the main artery but that one runs by my spine."

"Yeah, not going there, we'll stick with this one. Oh good you're here, sorry for dragging you out of bed sergeant."

Michael wasn't able to turn to see the active duty LPN, instead he stared at the ceiling while Dr. Marci fussed with the IV and prepped an anesthetic.

"Well," Ok, Michael did react upon hearing Sgt. Banks reply, at least it was her and not Cpl. Landers, Hayley would get so nervous around the archangel she'd throw up...or pass out...and neither was desirable right now. Then again, Michael was lucky period, there were only so many medically trained soldiers in the AAC. "I'd rather be here at stupid o'clock in the morning compared to running laps in two hours so you are doing me a favor Doc."

"Glad I could help, prep that tubing if you wouldn't mind."

Noma did so, finally stepping into Michael's line of sight and cracking a quick grin when she met his gaze. All she got was a nod in response before Michael flinched, groaning deep in his throat as Dr. Marci poked the needle into his back to numb the shoulder and vein.

"Sorry, I can't numb it for this."

"It's…" Michael groaned again, "Fine...just give it...longer...to sink in…"

"You burn through anesthesia faster right?"

"Mhm." He grimaced, unable to stop the expression from crossing his face, even if half his upper torso was going numb and useless, he still hurt.

Dr. Marci only allowed him one extra minute before directing Noma to assist her in threading the catheter through the blood vessel. As shitty as anesthesia was, Michael preferred it to feeling the thin tube literally forcing itself through his chest to his heart, he'd already felt the breathing tube go down earlier and was thankful he hadn't woken up still intubated.

"There, you're going to feel heat when the dye is administered, like hot water in your veins, just keep breathing through it while the cameras do their thing."

Michael nodded, making to ask when the dye was going to go in when his chest lit up with an internal fire that did make it hard to breathe. The doctor wasn't kidding...nor was she wasting anytime as she and Noma ducked out of the main room while the cameras rotated around the table while it tilted to the side slightly. He honestly didn't pay attention to the lenses, instead forced his lungs to keep breathing as the heat slowly dulled as his body fought off the dye.

By the time the x-ray was done, Michael was well and truly feeling like shit, and it was pretty obvious since without even saying anything Noma undid the straps and helped him sit up and move to the edge of the table once everything else had been disconnected. Her hand on his numb shoulder ensured he didn't tip over considering that arm was folded across his torso and lifeless, while the other was braced on his leg and holding his head up. The nausea was only getting worse as he tried to breathe, swallowing heavily.

Noma rubbed his numb shoulder, waiting silently for any form of acknowledgement or movement, all she got was a low groan.

Well that and a loud curse from Dr. Marci as she reappeared several minutes later, glaring at the X-ray print in her hand. Michael glanced up just enough when the doctor shoved the sheet onto the light board, flicking it on to reveal the dye lines spread throughout the archangel's heart.

"Good or bad Doc?"

"Well...Good, in the long run, the dye stayed right where it was and did exactly what it was supposed to-no leaks, no tears, no swellings, no obstructions-"

"Making me sick…" Michael interjected, still not moving from being hunched over.

The doctor snorted, "Gonna throw up again?"

"No...there's nothing left to bring up."

Noma winced in sympathy, shifting her grip when Michael swayed even sitting down, "In the short term Marci? What's the verdict?"

Instead of a straightforward answer, the doctor turned instead to the sergeant, "You know how to assist with an Echocardiogram?"

"Yeah? Why?"

"Because this gives me nothing...besides Michael is feeling like shit and I've got no answers or ideas."

That was the last thing Michael wanted to hear, and it was pretty obvious when he looked up finally, "You've got to be joking."

"I wish...these are only still images, maybe an ultrasound of your chest will help, but I've seriously got nothing...truly Michael, do you know of anything that can cause this?"

The archangel shook his head, flexing his numb hand to try and regain feeling, or at least stop the tingling. "I've never heard of nor seen this happen, I've run myself into the ground over time but never had anything linger past a day or more before I was completely fine."

Noma snickered softly, "Oh I wish I could get that in writing...archangels do actually have their weak points."

"Sergeant...medical confidentiality…" Dr. Marci growled, even if Michael simply shrugged, brushing off the comments with a low sigh.

"Doctor," Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, "You mentioned another test?"

"Yeah, an echocardiogram, ultrasound of your chest so I can watch the valves functioning, but there's no indications of any damage or strain...so I don't know what I'd be looking for at this point. Be honest with me, numb arm aside, how do you feel right now?"

Michael groaned, "Besides wanting to throw up from that dye? Like I was run over by a truck."

This time Noma's sympathetic wince was louder, for that matter Dr. Marci grimaced too.

"Let's get you back to bed then, see what happens if you sleep more."

Noma left as if on cue to get the gurney, leaving the doctor to help Michael to his feet.

"Ok, now that Banks is out of the room, any change to your answer?"

He shook his head again, "No...but I would prefer a sedative for the remainder of the night."

"Can't sleep?"

Michael sighed, head dropping in fatigue and frustration, "More like I do not want to."

"So says the archangel about ready to drop right in front of me."

"I cannot rest easily when…"

"Yes?"

Another sigh, "I…" His trailing off wouldn't have been a problem if Dr. Marci had been another angel, she'd have clearly heard his forced mumble, instead the doctor growled in irritation.

"Try again, I don't speak mumble."

"I said I was conscious the entire time!" Michael's shout visibly shook the woman, and she did back off a step so he'd calm down, that and for a moment she looked confused before her eyes softened drastically, years of medical experience cluing her in.

"You didn't pass out this time, did you?"

"No...I heard everything...I _felt_ everything...it wasn't until I flat lined after arriving in the ER did I lose consciousness entirely."

"That explains why you can't sleep, cardiac arrest is traumatic to say the least, but this-"

"Doctor... _please_ stop talking."

Dr. Marci nodded, holding her arm out for Michael to use as balance when Sgt. Banks returned with the gurney, muttering under her breath about obnoxious CNAs. "I'll get a dose of Morphine, that'll help you more than a basic sleep aid. With any luck, you'll be knocked out until late afternoon."

Michael tried to nod in agreement, moving at the same time and nearly buckling as his leg cramped, making him growl in pain as his hands left dents in both the x-ray table and the metal frame of the gurney. Once he was able to move, he collapsed onto the bed, wincing as his leg throbbed and chest remained tight from breathing wrong.

"Luck Doctor...does not seem to be on my side."

Xxx

Sleep came easily with a heavy dose of Morphine, to the point Michael didn't wake up until after sunset, not midafternoon like Dr. Marci had said. Which apparently meant no more testing until the next day since the physician had gone home to get some sleep since the archangel's vitals had calmed down while he slept.

The solid rest had helped, it was easier to breathe not being so physically drained, that and the nausea had finally left meaning the weak soup was very welcomed by late evening.

Michael also welcomed the nurse delivering the tray and then leaving immediately, it left him alone and able to eat without anyone seeing his hands shaking.

It only took him about five minutes to realize he'd set himself up for failure, just because he'd slept better, didn't mean he was better all around. That was never more obvious than when he'd leaned back into the pillows for a second to try and get his arms to stop shaking long enough that he could eat without dumping the bowl, and woke up about ten minutes later when Sgt. Hanson knocked on the end of his bed.

Not the door, since apparently Michael had slept through that part, but the foot panel of the bed.

"Hey...thought I didn't hear anything in here."

"Sergeant."

"Sir." Carla smiled, her stance was formal and military rigid, but her eyes still held the same determined compassion they had in the AAC infirmary, that and her sharp programming mind finding a solution considering just trying to sit up further left Michael panting for air that wouldn't make it to his lungs with how tired he still was.

"Here, spoons are over rated since this is mostly liquid anyway, easier to handle." With that she poured about half of the bowl's contents into the water mug the archangel had emptied earlier, helping his fingers wrap around it when he reached.

Drinking was easier than fussing with a spoon, which helped, what didn't help was Michael only managing to get about half of the mug down before his stomach ached, making it difficult to think for a minute as he collapsed back against the pillows again.

Sgt. Hanson simply took the mug away, moving the tray completely when Michael wasn't able to reopen his eyes for several minutes.

"Permission to inquire of your well being?"

That was the most formal version of 'how are you feeling?' that Michael had ever heard, not that he could really respond accordingly, shrugging a little before he spoke without opening his eyes.

"Exhausted."

Carla hummed softly, starting to fuss with the bed sheets as he struggled to look at her again, "Don't fight it then, sleep seems to be your biggest help right now, I've been watching your vitals and the more rest you get the better your averages are looking."

Michael grunted in acknowledgement, not having any further strength for much more as he let the darkness take over. The soldier left as he drifted off, not that it mattered, either way she still wouldn't have heard his silent plea as a lone tear broke free and slid down his cheek...he could just feel everything going downhill...and he couldn't stop it...

"... _Father...please...please don't let me die_ …"

* * *

 **Review please?**


	6. Then I Shall Die

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...besides my half OC/half canon characters...who my usual readers are familiar with now, and if you are new, then you will find them pretty quick...**

 **Summary: Christmas present to my readers! Ish...aka I had some miraculous free time and this plot idea wouldn't leave me alone so I decided to write a holiday-ish fic that I hope to have done by the end of the twelve nights of Christmas...January 6th...but it might evolve into more than that so we'll see...but Vega needed a holiday fic. Ok so true summary...let's just say it's going to be crazy...**

 **Author's Note: I have not forgotten or abandoned my other two fics, just taking a bit of a mental break so I can jump into them raring to go. Enjoy this one, it's probably (hopefully) going to be shorter than the others but still as action packed.**

 **Chapter Titles are from _The Cab_ song _Angel with a Shotgun_ , fic title is from _Florence and the Machine_ song _Shake it Off_. Both perfect songs for this.**

* * *

 **Chapter Six  
**

 **...Then I Shall Die  
**

Xxx

 _December 20th, 2039_

 _9:42am_

Xxx

The Echocardiogram had shown nothing, absolutely fucking nothing…

Michael wasn't happy.

Nor was he getting much better, at least now he was able to eat more without passing out, but that didn't stop his chest from aching as his heart struggled to keep pumping, it didn't stop his leg from hurting even when he wasn't using it, it meant nothing.

Dr. Marci had tried every drug she had to at least stabilize everything, nothing had really worked, stopping the fast rate of decline but not the overall condition.

He was dying...and could do nothing about it.

After the last round of testing from Dr. Marci, Michael had refused all medications other than comfort drugs, if he was going to go out, it would be without pain and sleeping as easily as he could.

Both Riesen and Thorn were not happy to hear about this, nor were they thrilled that Michael had turned over control of the AAC to Captain Wills and Mason.

Not thrilled, but not against it, Michael wasn't able to coherently read the reports let alone decide how to act on them, it was better for Vega for others to pull the strings.

Right now...he was trying to sleep, having managed a rather crappy night of little rest since his leg had been cramping off and on even with the Morphine in his veins. And if he was asleep when Dr. Marci returned to check on him, she wouldn't make him get up and walk for awhile, refusing to give up even if the archangel was starting too.

Riesen was trying to be quiet as he worked through paperwork, remaining a constant presence but silent. Rebecca on the other hand had given up on working, instead fighting with herself every time Michael shifted in discomfort as if she wanted to get up and help.

He would much rather she just leave already, anytime she moved he'd twitch and it wasn't helping any. Nor for that matter was thinking any of this over in an attempt to fall back asleep. Should have just taken the nurse up on her offer for a sedative earlier, but moving now to call for it was a bad idea with people in his room, aka Consul Thorn.

There wasn't anytime to think this over further, thinking meant his head hurt, and like the last six or so hours had taught him...

Headaches lead to him getting sick.

It hurt to lean up over the edge of the bed, then again there was little that didn't hurt anymore so why did he bother to care now? Becca yelped as he threw up what little he'd eaten for breakfast, rasping for air desperately in between heaves as his heart pounded in his chest.

Riesen must have hit the call button, as a minute after the general had stepped around the bed with a trashcan and to hold Michael's shoulder, Sgt. Hanson and Dr. Marci were suddenly in front of the archangel.

Michael wasn't paying attention past that, trying to breathe as it felt like his entire stomach was trying to climb up his throat.

That and after another minute, he wasn't bringing up stomach acid anymore…

"What the hell…"

It kind of freaked him out to see he was throwing up blood…

Thankfully...for once Michael believed his Father had a hand in this, or at least something did...the blood was dark and thick, not fresh from internal bleeding. And it stopped coming up after a couple painful heaves that left Michael choking for air. Rinsing his mouth out pretty much took the last of his meager strength at this point, it took both Sgt. Hanson and Dr. Marci to help him lay back, curling on his side in pain and so he wouldn't choke if he threw up again anytime soon.

Pressing against his abdomen, Dr. Marci was lucky there was nothing left for him to eject at her, as it was he didn't bite back the groans as she checked him over.

"Nothing is split, or if it was, it's healed over now, just a pooling from something, likely a stress break. Still feeling like shit?"

Michael moaned softly, "Do you _really_ want me to answer that?"

She snickered quietly, pulling the sheet back over him and obliging when he waved off the heavier blanket for now. "Want a sleep aid?"

He nodded almost immediately, sagging further into the pillow in exhaustion as she stepped away, directing Sgt. Hanson to remain in the room until she returned.

Something cool and soft brushed against his face after the door clicked shut, and Michael's eyes sluggishly opened to see Becca gently bathing his face with a cool cloth.

"Better?"

He didn't bother responding verbally, closing his eyes as she continued even without a reply. It did help a bit, at least to clean the sweat coating his face. It did nothing to ease the…

"What in the blazes…" Sgt. Hanson pushed off the wall, stepping forward as Becca paused at her words, "Consul, may I ask you to step back?"

Michael didn't look to see why she was stepping closer, not even bothering to move when she sat on the edge of the bed behind him. The archangel was too busy enjoying the fact that he could breathe easily, and his chest didn't hurt…

In fact, it felt better to roll onto his back, stretching out comfortably as he flexed his leg up a bit.

"Sergeant what is going on?" Riesen asked, making Carla turn a little before she replied.

"Heart rate is up and stabilizing, blood pressure is improving, O2 levels are rising...like someone flipped a switch…"

That is kind of how Michael felt, like the dam had been opened and the released gates just...made everything better…

To the point he twisted and sat up entirely, moving to the side of the bed to lean forward with a loud huff of air. Sgt. Hanson didn't move from his side, fully ready to help him if needed as he regained the ability to breathe deep enough every tense muscle visibly relaxed as he stretched a little.

Dr. Marci returned as he rolled his shoulders, sighing loudly in relief at the noisy pops his joints made.

"Well...that's new…" The doctor quipped, setting the Morphine bottle on the counter before moving closer. Michael willingly looked up at her light touch, obliging as she checked his eyes and pulse. "You will never cease to amaze me Archangel...you're….well damn...feel like getting up?"

Michael was a bit thrilled that he could actually nod in response, accepting the doctor's hand as Sgt. Hanson took his other arm, easing him to his feet slowly. He ignored the floor on his bare feet, grateful he had a shirt and sweatpants on at least instead of a gown.

It only took a minute, but he could stand on his own without them with ease.

"Sir?"

"I'm fine...sergeant...thank you."

She backed off as he took a step...and another...almost shuffling around the room as he flexed his arms slowly as the strength flooded back into his limbs and very core.

Dr. Marci waited only about ten minutes as Michael moved around slowly, pausing every ten steps or so to pause and lean against a wall or chair, letting his body get used to moving again. Once he was steady, the doctor lead him out into the hallway, letting him move more as he straightened up further.

Michael knew what she saw, she saw the strength flooding back through his veins as the exhausted tint faded from his skin and the calm, bordering on ethereal tone took over again.

Talk about flip of the switch…

This was normal, this was natural, strength and power humming just beneath the surface and always in control. Michael was loathe to admit that he was struggling to keep a grin off his face.

Neither really spoke other than Dr. Marci assessing how Michael was doing, after twenty minutes letting her hand drop from where it had been hovering at his back just in case.

Just past eleven o'clock, almost an hour after Michael's heart rate had evened out...she should have kept her hand up.

The complete loss of...everything sent Michael to his knees, clutching at anything with reach as they passed the nursing station again from walking the halls. The clipboards stacked on the counter toppled faster than he did as he careened into the opposite wall before Jeanette could grab him.

He went down hard, one hand scratching at his chest as the other grabbed at the wall railing. Michael choked, unable to get air in as he tried to contain the noises of pain threatening in his throat.

Kinda hard to keep relatively quiet as his wings spread without his consent, one basically clearing half the nursing station of papers, files, supplies, and a couple computers as it banged into the desk. The other went through the window….glass shattering all over as he slumped to the ground in exhaustion.

His wings spasmed, making him gasp in pain as he tried to at least get up enough to lessen the strain on his back.

It was no use, he couldn't move, it wasn't until the two soldiers who had been on guard for his room plus Sgt. Hanson physically pulled him up, letting his aching body slump against them as they eased his wings to be semi folded around him.

At least this time his heart wasn't stopping, merely racing like he'd run a marathon and lost horribly...all of him ached as the soldiers hauled him completely upright, careful not to pin his wings against his sides but not shying away from the fact they _had_ to touch them so he could move.

"Somebody start talking!"

Riesen sounded furious as Michael was half dragged back into his room, medical staff scrambling to dismantle part of the bed when Dr. Marci snapped at them to not put the archangel back on the bed, letting him lay on the mattress on the floor since he wasn't exactly able to move his wings.

The black feathers rattled when a nurse tried to roll him over, a groan sliding past his frantic breaths as she flinched away.

"Oh for the love of-" Sgt. Hanson yanked the oxygen mask from her hands, easing it onto Michael's face as he grabbed at her arm in panic. "Deep breaths ok? Just slow down...it's ok...Jeanette get this room clear."

Michael didn't hear Dr. Marci's reply, nor did he care that the medical staff and Consul Thorn were escorted from the room as two more soldiers entered in their place. It took about twenty minutes before he rolled completely onto his stomach, growling in pain as he forced his wings to retract. The pain from the stiff joints was nothing compared to when they'd emerged, that was a bonus, but the force now meant he'd hurt more later.

Once he was...less feathered...as one of the soldiers teased before getting slapped, they moved him back onto the bed once he had twisted onto his back entirely to allow Dr. Marci to examine him.

"Doctor do you have any explanation for this?"

"Oh sure General, I know exactly why Michael recovered to a point I was in utter shock and then an hour later completely collapsed and is currently bordering on cardiac arrest yet again….let me just pull the answers out of my ass and read them to you."

"Doctor!"

"What do you want from me Riesen?!

"Some answers!"

"I don't have any!

"Then-"

"What is going on here?!"

Michael flinched at the new noise, groaning as he curled onto his side in pain and wrapped an arm around his stomach to keep from throwing up again. Not that he blamed William Whele's question, he was wondering that too. One minute, sick and weak as can be, the next completely _fine_...and right after that?

As if nothing had changed...maybe even worse now as the archangel started trembling from exhaustion.

"Welcome Principate, care to join the madness?"

William snorted, but stepped forward as Michael shuddered in pain, moaning under his breath as he struggled to open his eyes. The Principate was still in his services robes, looking like he'd run from church to here. Considering his two guards were the ones who had joined Michael's to move the archangel off the floor, that's probably exactly what happened.

"I got the call once Services were over that someone broke a window-"

Riesen sighed, "That was Michael."

"How? He can't move!"

The general must have nodded, sighing again as he sat down judging by the sounds, Michael honestly didn't care anymore, just hoped Dr. Marci returned soon with the painkillers, or sleep aid...or something…

"His wing went through the window William, for the last hour or so Michael was relatively fine and walking around, almost like someone flipped a switch and it was as if nothing happened. Fifteen minutes ago…"

"Switch was killed." William finished softly, and Michael's fist relaxed when the Principate lightly rested his hand on the archangel's wrist as if in comfort. "My apologies Archangel, I hope you feel better soon."

Michael nodded slightly, wincing a bit as just that hurt. The door opened up again for Dr. Marci, the physician sighing loudly but otherwise returning to Michael's bedside, "Random topic change, how were services today Principate?"

"They were rather well doctor, thank you. Many prayers were for Michael's recovery and wishing him well, my own among them-"

Michael shifted abruptly, grimacing a bit as he tried to stretch his spine, William backed away in response as Dr. Marci paused in administering the latest drug.

"Archangel?"

It only took a few seconds for the pain to return and Michael slumped back onto his bed, hand twitching for the doctor to continue on. She didn't right away, "Principate keep talking."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Just...keep talking, how were the children's classes?"

William hesitated, but kept going, describing how many of the children had asked and ended up making 'get well' cards and pictures for Michael instead of actually listening to any of the stories. The longer he spoke, the easier it was for the archangel in question to breathe, relaxing slowly as Dr. Marci remained firmly silent even if Consul Thorn was starting to shift impatiently.

Someone's hand was back on Michael's after a few minutes, but he didn't open his eyes to see who, sighing in contentment as the pain started to fade just a little…

Well, for a bit longer, the pain faded and then started to creep up again as William stopped talking, having finished recounting his morning for the doctor.

"Well fuck…" Jeanette's tone was enough for Michael to convince himself to look up again, and watch as William backed away again and removed his hand. The loss of contact was the last part of the faint relief fading away, leaving the archangel still feeling sick and seriously confused, "Sgt. Hanson, Principate, I need the two of you to leave the room, Consul Thorn I suggest you do so as well."

The first two complied, Becca beginning to protest before Riesen waved her out, apparently agreeing to inform her later as Dr. Marci moved a chair to sit within Michael's line of sight. For a few minutes, the doctor remained silent, finally speaking after shaking her head in frustration.

"Michael, how much are you affected by prayer?"

"What?" Riesen gaped, barely earning a glance from the woman as she watched Michael closely.

The archangel could only shrug, "I used to be able to hear everything ever spoken, especially those directed at myself in particular. Now...nothing…"

"Then why were you suddenly feeling better during and _only_ during the church services for the Chosen One? While they were praying for you? The times line up almost to the minute and even with William Whele in here talking about it, you relaxed marginally and were breathing easier. It was obviously affecting you especially if William had physical contact."

Michael had to mull that over for a few minutes, shifting on the bed to try and get comfortable, it wasn't easy, but he managed after a few painful movements, sighing in both relief and frustration.

Realization wasn't something he wanted to achieve right now, mainly because he was dreading the answer.

Now he knew _exactly_ what was going on…

Xxx

 _December 21st, 2039_

 _10:21pm_

Xxx

He never should have ignored the signs, never just brushed this off like it was just another irritating moment that would go away with time. Because, like they say...rain drops may gather, but it only takes one to break the dam. Guess that's why they called him the "Flood".

Or in this case...a drought...since there was _nothing_ in him…

No strength, no power, no immune system…

The last point was punctuated by a sharp coughing fit before he shifted on the hospital bed, trying to fall back asleep so his thoughts would stop wandering.

Reality was, he was dying, and not from a wound, or a disease, or a physical malfunction.

It was technically old age if someone really thought about it, but the gist of it is...he'd lost the ability to live.

Guess Heaven shutting down was harder on him than he'd thought. The lack of power from the celestial eternity had finally caught up with him. With nothing and no one caring about angels or Heaven or God or the old religions like they used to...that Faith...it was gone. And left Michael completely empty because there was nothing for him to draw on to heal. Prayers had helped to a point, but it was just a short time of relief, not a cure all. This had been going on for awhile, little things like stiffness that had taken longer than a thought to heal, wings spasming a touch before retracting...it was just all crashing down now in one fell swoop…or flood...

That was the good news, surprisingly, they had an answer.

The bad news was...there was nothing Michael or anyone could do about it.

Even after explaining everything, and Dr. Marci agreeing to just administer the sleep aid and let Michael rest once she'd departed, Riesen had used the moment to ask Michael if the general needed to get Alex.

Michael had only been able to say one thing before mercifully falling asleep.

Riesen had only one reason to bring Alex into this now…

For Michael's funeral.

* * *

 **Review please?**


	7. With My Heart

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...besides my half OC/half canon characters...who my usual readers are familiar with now, and if you are new, then you will find them pretty quick...**

 **Summary: Christmas present to my readers! Ish...aka I had some miraculous free time and this plot idea wouldn't leave me alone so I decided to write a holiday-ish fic that I hope to have done by the end of the twelve nights of Christmas...January 6th...but it might evolve into more than that so we'll see...but Vega needed a holiday fic. Ok so true summary...let's just say it's going to be crazy...**

 **Author's Note: I have not forgotten or abandoned my other two fics, just taking a bit of a mental break so I can jump into them raring to go. Enjoy this one, it's probably (hopefully) going to be shorter than the others but still as action packed.**

 **Chapter Titles are from _The Cab_ song _Angel with a Shotgun_ , fic title is from _Florence and the Machine_ song _Shake it Off_. Both perfect songs for this.**

 **To Sire-wehn: Thank you for the follow!**

 **To Lil'Beggar: Hello! I'm sorry for the long delay! And yes, poor fairies when children grow up, that's why I hold the philosophy-Growing Old is Mandatory, but Growing Up is totally Optional. I wanted a fic that captured the need between the bond of humans and angels, can't have one without the other. lol finished The End? there's more coming! Thank you so much for continuing your reading! And yes...I'm addicted to Michael!Whump...I can't help it...Please don't over exhaust yourself! I read a lot at night too and suffer, please! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Enjoy this chapter!**

 **To Guest: I won't! I promise...ish...heh...not really...thank you!**

 **To T: Alex isn't going to be very happy huh? Thank you!**

 **To GuestM: I'm a Baaaad Kitty huh? The other angels huh? That is part of this, just wait patiently. And very good point, those in Vega are doing so because William is asking them too, and it's not doing a whole lot of good. As for the Black Acolytes, desperate people looking for hope, for anything in the chaos of war. Gabriel has people believing in him, even if it's misguided. Michael is the first, and truly isolated, he may have contact with the neutral angels, but only speaks to Louis in brief moments of emergency. Louis has more contact with the others hidden in Vega. Michael's exile is a bit more severe in this fic than in "The End". What if I don't get him out of it? Thank you!**

 **P.S. Oh my gosh that would be amazing! seriously I should see what...hmm... ;)**

 **To Guest: You're welcome and you'll just have to see about the other angels huh? Thank you!**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven  
**

 **With My Heart  
**

Xxx

 _December 24th, 2039_

 _8:47pm_

Xxx

The beat up truck rumbled into the gate house along Vega's wall, braking with a soft squeal of worn parts before coming to a complete stop.

Only two people stepped down from the vehicle, complying with the guards to pass off weapons and get the usual retina scan for possession.

Once in the clear, they immediately grabbed their limited gear, swinging duffle bags onto their shoulders before following an army grunt to a waiting Captain.

He smirked upon seeing them, "Guess the outposts ain't too bad off if they can sacrifice you two for a couple days."

The first of them smirked, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder better, "No sir, everything's running fine, 'specially since that new rotation and we got those new guys, just lovin' it out there. Speaking of, can we start our leave now? Been a long couple years."

Mason smirked, glancing over the reports the second AAC soldier had handed him, "Go on get out of here, I'll see you on the twenty-sixth."

Sgt. Caroline Ryan and Sgt. Eric Long saluted their CO they hadn't seen in person in two years, heading out as soon as Captain Mason turned to allow them to do so. Outpost guards didn't get relieved of duty easily, more often than not getting assigned outside the walls was both a life long commitment, and a death sentence.

They were lucky, they made it long enough to ask for personal leave to return to Vega for a short forty-eight hour visit.

And they brought treasures.

Xxx

 _9:00pm_

Xxx

Michael forced his lungs to exhale with as much strength as he could gather, giving up afterwards and sagging back against the bed while Dr. Marci sighed and stepped away as she looked over the breath test.

For the last few days, Michael only managed to get up to a normal lung capacity once, when the doctor had done the test during one of William's church services. Because of the holiday, there were more meetings, meaning Michael had roughly an hour each day where he didn't feel like crap and was able to eat and move around enough to chase away the awful stiffness setting into his joints. After that first day though, he'd learned to be back in bed well before services were due to end, it was no use getting hurt right now...he felt lousy enough as it was.

There was only so much William could do, it wasn't like he could tell the people what was really going on, just ask for continued thoughts and prayers for the archangel's recovery. It helped, temporarily…

It at least let Michael sleep more and in turn feel less pain, if he ate while not feeling so horrible then he wouldn't bring it back up later, leaving him more time to sleep.

Small miracles at this point…

But after the twenty-fifth...there wasn't a single church service until well after the New Year, meaning a three week gap in the slight reprieves.

Michael doubted he'd live past the second.

Right now though he was more focused on the concern flashing across Jeanette's face, she desperately wanted to do anything to help, but there was only so much she could do let alone what Michael would allow at this point.

Life support was not an option, the archangel would rather choke before being intubated again, it would only prolong the inevitable and make it that much harder.

Dr. Marci sighed again, taking her notes before setting the breath gauge aside without speaking, once ensuring Michael was settled, she left the room after changing out an IV bag. Michael had denied life support and most medications, she had agreed to this only if she got to keep him hydrated and as pain free as she could without heavy narcotics. Only Morphine had made the cut for drugs to use.

Once the room was empty, Michael turned onto his side, wishing his stomach would stop rolling as he could just sleep again.

With Christmas here (the archangel had absolutely _no_ idea why it was still celebrated when no one believed in the true meaning anymore) yes there were more services and the archangel was given respite from...dying...but it also meant he was plagued with visitors. He'd almost been woken up that morning by some, luckily his guards had managed to hold them off until he'd actually been conscious, but the line had been endless of both AAC and Army officers, senate members and other V-6s all there to wish him well and tidings on the holiday, until Riesen had gotten word of it just before noon and showed up.

He'd put a stop to it in seconds, pulling rank over everyone and basically saying no visitors unless Michael asked for someone specifically. The resulting arguments outside the archangel's hospital room had been so loud he'd gotten one hell of a migraine. But once the noise died down Riesen had informed him everyone was gone and he'd call stop in tomorrow if Michael chose, the archangel had gratefully passed out before Dr. Marci could be paged to bring a sleep aid.

He'd slept until late evening, and was now begging to return to sleep...his entire abdomen burned, from nausea and from hunger. Nothing sounded, smelled, or tasted good, the mere thought of food made the nausea win out almost every time something was brought to his room.

Scratch his earlier thoughts, he wouldn't live past the first week after tomorrow…

Xxx

 _9:02pm_

Xxx

"What do you mean Michael's in the hospital?!"

Noma groaned softly, slamming her pillow to her side and smacking Caroline as hard as she could, not that it helped any…

"He's been really sick for a couple weeks now."

"Well fuck…"

Carla snickered tiredly, not even really moving from where she was sprawled out on her bunk above the one Eric was sitting on and using during his leave in Vega. Caroline would be going home to her family for the night, but Eric was stuck in the barracks. Either way, it meant Carla and Noma might not get enough sleep while they were here and still on rotation at the hospital with Ethan and a couple others.

"What's the big deal Caro?" Ethan asked, leaning on Noma's bed where the black haired woman was laying down in an attempt to sleep for a bit before her shift, Caroline was unfortunately trying to squeeze on to it as well and making rest difficult. "Archangel's under lockdown anyway, Riesen's said no visitors at all."

She huffed, kicking lightly at one of her bags set on the floor, "Cause apparently everyone is making me deliver something to him before I go back. And I can't just pass it on to someone else."

Noma groaned again, but glanced up at Carla, "When's our shift?"

"Three in the morning, Ethan's after us at nine."

She leaned up on an elbow, looking to Caroline and seeing serious frustration on her normally easy going face, "It's not just reports from the outpost is it?"

"No."

Xxx

 _December 25th, 2039_

 _4:14am_

Xxx

Ok so maybe sneaking into a private hospital room at four in the morning on Christmas Day wasn't the smartest thing to do considering she was on leave that could be revoked if she got caught and then thrown in prison.

Then again, she wasn't about to fail a comrade in the desperate plead they'd asked.

Aka Alex bribed her with booze to personally deliver a letter to Michael without anyone else seeing it.

At least with Noma and Carla on duty, the two medically trained sergeants covering for the archangel's attending physician overnight, she wouldn't be put on the record officially. That wouldn't stop anyone else from mentioning it if they saw her.

The archangel was sound asleep when she slipped inside with a duffel bag, not even twitching as she carefully set it down on a chair to begin to dig through it. Even sleeping under the influence of drugs the archangel looked terrible. And Caroline was hard pressed to not react.

Michael wasn't supposed to be like this... _ever._..and seeing Vega's protector so weak...she was shaken up. The hand covering her mouth finally slipped down once it was clear the archangel wasn't going to wake up if she moved quietly, or for that matter at all when she dropped one of the small boxes and the rattle did absolutely nothing.

She was quick to unpack the little containers, setting them up on the tray beside the bed, arranging them in a cute fashion that would likely be ignored if it was noticed at all. A thin, plain envelope she tucked in front, as soon as Michael moved to see the tray it would be the first thing he'd see. Caroline almost left it like that, slinging the bag back on her shoulder as she watched her commander remain deeply unconscious.

At least until she saw the faint trembling hidden just beneath all the monitor wires, IV tubes, and hospital sheets.

Even with the blankets Michael was obviously cold, too tired apparently to wake up and get assistance. Not that the staff could do much, the room temps couldn't be adjusted. Sgt. Ryan sighed softly, making to press the call button and risk the wrath of the higher ups so Michael could get an extra blanket or something.

Her bag crinkled, the wrapped present inside reminding her of one last thing she was supposed to leave in the Stratosphere.

Tearing just enough to poke her finger in, Caroline smiled, Michael would get over the fact one of his deliveries had been opened without his consent.

Xxx

 _10:11am_

Xxx

The first thing he noticed was it didn't hurt to just breathe as he woke up, and that there was faint daylight sneaking through the heavy window blinds and the curtain pulled around his bed.

Second thing was the faint smell of cinnamon trying to creep around the room.

Last thing he noticed as he woke up enough to start functioning for the morning…

He was no longer shivering from being cold.

It took him a minute to figure out why, or actually it took moving enough to lie on his back entirely to recognize the warm weight on top of him.

The white hospital sheet was the same, as was the heavier medic green blanket, in between the two however was a heavier cover. Michael knew for a fact the hospital did not have crocheted blankets anywhere.

But...it was warm, and he didn't try to get it off for the moment as he examined the blue and green dyed yarn that had black strands woven through it. Judging by the off centered loops, there was a bigger pattern he couldn't see at the moment.

What he could see was a simple white envelope leaning against several small brown boxes, each tied with different color strings.

To be perfectly honest, he almost didn't want to grab the envelope simply because it would mean he'd lose the warmth the new blanket provided. But he did so because it likely held the answers as to the sudden new things in his room, that and Alex's handwriting still sucked and was easily recognizable where it was scrawled across the white.

The compromise was to lay on his other side, still tucked under the blanket but able to read the pages sent to him.

First page was a report, judging by the typed print, Alex had grabbed the wrong page since it was the last paper of several meant to go somewhere else.

Aside from the basic pleasantries of "Hi, how are you, I'm obviously alive." Alex didn't write anything to the point of holiday tidings to the archangel, respectful that it honestly bothered Michael to no end. That and to Alex it was just another birthday, another year he wasn't dead.

The rest of the letter...

He was right, an explanation. Mostly, there was endless scratched out words and ink stains, apparently Alex had been in a hurry and made one heck of a mess.

... _first off, figured you'd want to know what the hell is in the boxes, Caroline was in charge o- delivering them and if she did her job right, they should have been left in either your office in the barracks or in the Stratosphere without you seeing her. If not, I apologize for this idea and don't get mad at her for sneaking in_ …

Ah so Sgt. Ryan must have been in his room while he was asleep, likely during the night shift since if Michael remembered correctly she and Carla Hanson had been training partners up until Ryan's rotation assignment to the Agri-Towers.

.. _.anyway, each box contains something from some of us out here in the Mountain Lodge, Vega's northernmost "hell hole" as this place is "affectionately" called, I fully agree w/ it after just a week up here_ …

That explained why Alex had stopped even being apart of the team that reported in to Vega's wall guards, if he got moved to the Mountain slot, he was Vega's farthest outpost, in charge of the outermost livestock herds and watching Vega's borders.

.. _.So the contents of the boxes are as follows, no idea what you'd like but the girls insisted on sending something seeing as K- usually leaves something for you in the Stratosphere anyway, this year she couldn't get time off so Caroline is in charge of delivery_ …

Whoever this K. was, they must be the one in who had been leaving all the AAC commanding officers gingerbread houses the last six years on Christmas. Michael had gone so far as physically remaining in the Stratosphere all day the third year to see just who in the blazes was doing it.

That year his gift was left in his barracks office and he found it the next day.

... _Names and choices match the strings:_

 _Caro-: Yellow...frosted sugar cookies_

 _Eric: Blue...caramel and chocolate mint...things I honestly have no idea what he called them_

 _(sorry for the smudges 'nd making no sense, writing this at three in the morning to send with Caroline as she didn't get leave notice until an hour ago.)_

 _Aro: Green...he says its sweet rolls but K- made them wrong so it looks like bread…_

 _K-: Purple...mini pies, I think there's apple in there, but pumpkin for sure_

 _Rachel: Orange...mixed chocolate nuts and popcorn and candied fruit...I think she basically just dumped chocolate on trail mix and granola and called it good…_

 _And me, I sent the black string one, peanut butter drops, they sound plain, but are awesome, or not, whatever…_

Michael smirked a bit, Alex must have been pretty tired as while his writing was barely legible, the archangel was almost positive part of his understanding was from knowing how Alex wrote things out when tired or in a rush...or both.

...a _s for me, hence why I had Caro-...stupid pen...deliver this personally, didn't want anyone opening this and reading the next part._

 _I still suck at meditating, but can go longer in keeping calm and quiet, I think someone timed me and got...I wanna say over twenty minutes. Sometimes it's hard to practice with all the idiots around…(these guys are ok)_

 _No actual 'visions' or whatever you want to call them...a couple fucked up dreams though. Remember telling me that the tattoos would possible hold memories? Well I think my dad spent some time in some...stone ruins, no idea where, but I had like three nights in a row where all I'd see was old etchings on these walls, some so worn away I couldn't tell what they were, a couple others showed I think hunting scenes...but I'm not sure. Another dream was...well it was weird, I don't think it was from my dad, more like you...it was some battle, but everyone was shouting in some language that even with the tattoos I couldn't recognize it. Other than that...I got nothing, though because of some dumb ass eight ball with wings a few weeks ago, I have gotten better at NOT staring at the sun when shooting, it took only one miss for K-...sonuva bitch you stupid pen...only one miss (from yours truly) for ALL of us to target practice in sunlight, I can hit a rock about the size of a baseball now._

 _So yeah, that's all I really got, I'm really fuckin' tired right now and Caroline's about to head out the door…_

 _Oh! K-...fuck it I'm getting a new pen...there, stupid...anyway, something just got shoved in -aroline's bag for you, if it's what I think it is, I hope you like it, took *** and I...ah damn stupid pen...I give up...took us all night to finish it, hence why I'm tired...but I figured blue and green were cool colors (get it?) and the black is for your wings. You can hit me the next time you see me._

 _Anyway, no idea the next time I'll get on truck duty to come to the wall, winter sucks up here at this outpost and it's putting a strain on the other ones too since eight balls hate the snow. I'll try to get on the next load in, but no guarantees, but any letters will be hand delivered by those here at my outpost. If we ever get called for assessment, feel free to come up, it's really neat up here, the views are amazing (though you've probably already seen it.) There is one thing I can't write to you about, but you might like it if you're ever up here, or get the chance to join Captain Rodriguez on leave when he drives up. That's all I got Michael, hope everything's good in Vega!_

 _Over and out!_

 _Alex_

Now Michael legitimately smiled for a moment, rereading a few pieces as he let the words sink in.

The biggest thing...Alex was alive...and not being stupid…

Second thing was he must have had a hand in the blanket gift, which explained why it was hidden.

Still grinning a little, Michael tucked the pages back into the envelope, sliding it into the book Riesen had left with him a few days ago, no one would look there.

For once food sounded enticing as he shifted a couple of the boxes around, all plain brown except for the strings. But right now, Michael was too drowsy to start looking inside them to confirm their contents, maybe even sample them if the smell didn't make him sick. The blanket was warm and he actually felt a bit at ease knowing Alex was truly alright, albeit in a dangerous guard position but it sounded like his unit mates were pretty close and protective.

It made it that much easier to sleep…

Xxx

 _4:42pm_

Xxx

Riesen knew the minute he stepped into the room he wouldn't be staying long, none of them would be for that matter as Consul Thorn and Whele followed him in.

Michael was sound sleep, looking for once like he was actually resting and not just sedated.

That and apparently someone other than medical staff had been in the room judging by the small boxes sitting on the tray. The general wasn't going to fuss over it, Michael was obviously fine and whoever it was had done so without upsetting him.

David set a card on the archangel's bedside stand alongside the handful of others the senate had all been delivering recently. Becca's was already among them but she stepped forward without reservation and pressed a chaste kiss to the archangel's forehead. Michael didn't react at all, but Riesen narrowed his eyes at the woman. Hidden relationship aside, she did not need to be waking Michael up for her own pleasure.

Edward did pause at the doorway once the Consuls had already stepped out, turning back to watch Michael just breathe for a few minutes.

It truly hurt to think that this may very well be the last Christmas he'd see the archangel. Usually Michael stayed hidden today, he'd join the Archangel Corps officers in the barracks for the big meal the Captains and House Cassian put on each year for the military units. And then joined Riesen at the general's place for drinks late that night after all the parties were done and Claire had retired.

This year, Michael wasn't going anywhere, and Riesen didn't know what hurt more, the fact that Michael was so sick he couldn't even join in what little he was usually did, or that he might never do it again period.

* * *

 **Review please?**

 **Author's** **Note :** **You all need to see this please READ ME! I got a new job for the summer and I leave on the 24th of May. But there is likely to be very little internet access there, so updates will be few and far between until I go some where on my time off to get wifi. I will do my best to get at least one more chapter out before I start working but no guarantees. Thank you all for your patience.**


End file.
